A Vacation To Remember
by SylvieT
Summary: Grissom and Sara are at the beach. A lot of fluff, and love, and sand between someone's toes. Oh, and Brass finds out.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Grissom and Sara are spending a couple of days at Laguna Beach. The story takes place after the season 6 finale. It's very fluffy, but hey, I'm in the mood. I hope you'll indulge me and enjoy.

And as always thank you for reading and leaving a comment if you do. I appreciate all the feedback and encouragement.

* * *

A Vacation To Remember

* * *

Sara had forgotten how good she felt being in the water, how free and relaxed too. How empty of thoughts her mind was. It had been so long since she'd last indulged. The surf was just perfect, the gentle breeze coupled with the incoming tide making for perfect spilling waves. She wasn't as good on the bodyboard as she once was, but it was slowly coming back to her. And anyway, it didn't matter how she looked as long as she was having fun.

She'd catch a wave, riding it to the edge until she ran aground, tasting a little salt water in the process, and then run back out again and catch another one. She couldn't get enough. Few people were in the water at that time of day on a Tuesday, which suited her just fine. She hadn't had much growing up, but the ocean had been a constant in her life, a friend with moods often mirroring her own she could depend on. She'd missed it.

Every time a wave brought her back to shore, she'd look up at the expanse of beach ahead and locate Grissom sitting with his hat on in the folding camping chair he'd hauled all the way from Vegas. Turned out he didn't much like lying on a towel on the sand. Still, he was there with her and that was all that mattered. They'd had a leisurely morning and late breakfast, and had already decided on having an early dinner at the small beachfront restaurant opposite the B&B they were staying at. She was happy and carefree and, despite the fact that he was yet to test the water, she knew he was too.

"Gil!" she called excitedly, kicking up sand as she trotted over to him.

Smiling, Grissom lifted his eyes off the book he was reading.

She pushed her wet hair out of her face. "You should totally try it!"

He laughed. "I don't think so."

Carefully, she set the rented bodyboard down on the sand and then used her towel to dry her face and hair.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, watching her from behind his sunglasses.

"I did. The water's just…perfect."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"What are you so scared of?" she asked, rummaging in her open backpack for her sports drink bottle.

"Making a fool of myself?"

She uncapped the bottle. "You don't care about that," she replied, taking a swig before offering him some.

Laughing, he shook his head in reply. "What if I got hurt? What would I tell work then, huh? I'm not as nimble as you are."

Standing, she dropped the towel and drinks bottle on top of her bag and reached back for the pull cord to unzip the shortie wet suit she'd also rented for the day. "Nimble?" she queried wryly, as she contorted herself to pull the cord down.

"Yes," he said, his lips twitching with a happy smile. "Nimble. I was watching you out there, and you're nothing if not nimble. And lithe. You're a natural in the water."

Sara pursed her face thoughtfully. "I do miss the ocean, so this little…getaway is a real treat for me."

"Oh, for me too, believe me."

Crouching down, she hugged him from behind. "Thank you for making it possible."

"You're wet! And cold!" he exclaimed with a start.

Laughing, Sara pulled back.

His smile broadened. "But the pleasure is all mine." Turning on the chair, he touched his fingers to her face tenderly. "Being boss does have its perks."

Sara leaned over for a kiss, which he readily returned. Standing back up, she pulled the wet suit off one shoulder and then off the other, pulling her arms out and letting it rest at her mid-section while she picked the towel up and patted her chest dry. She could feel the gentle caress of his gaze on her skin.

"I'm just saying that you're missing out, that's all," she went on, tugging the wetsuit down to her ankles and stepping out of it.

"Missing out?" he repeated dreamily. He raised his eyes from her feet back to her swimsuited body then up to her face and beamed sweetly at her. "Oh, I don't think I'm missing out at all."

Laughing, she gave her head a shake of disbelief. Then she slipped her sunglasses and her ball cap on, lay the wet suit on top of the board and spread out her towel so she could sit down on it. Letting out a long, contented breath, she angled her face to the sky, closed her eyes and let the warm rays of the sun do their magic.

"I could teach you, you know," she said, looking over to him after a while.

Once again, Grissom looked up from his book.

"Bodyboarding's not that hard, not compared to surfing, and I promise you wouldn't get hurt."

"I'm happy here reading my book," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile as he raised Lee Child's latest instalment in her eye line. "I'm relaxing, and having a great time as it is. But thank you."

Knowing when she was beaten, Sara gave a nod. "Is it good?" she asked, nodding toward his book.

Grissom pursed his mouth. "A little formulaic, but I like it."

She laughed with disbelief. "I never took you as a Reacher fan."

"There you have it. I'm a man full of mystery."

She laughed. "Mystery, huh?"

He winked at her, and again she shook her head.

"It's a light, easy read," he added with a shrug. "My mind is clear of thoughts. Well, aside from the worry of whether _you_ – and _Reacher_ – might get hurt in your…respective endeavours."

Her laughter came easily. "I don't know about Reacher, but you can rest assured that I am perfectly safe."

His words gave her pause though, and she wondered what mystery he had planned for them on their second day. They could only stay at Laguna Beach for two full days – they'd drive back to Vegas overnight after the second day and catch up on sleep the following day before shift – and they'd agreed that each would pick activities for them to do on one of the days. She'd chosen the beach and bodyboarding and he…was steadfastly keeping his plans a secret.

Sara's gaze travelled from the book to his face, taking in the wraparound sunglasses and straw hat combination, down to his Tommy Bahama shirt and matching board shorts she'd bought him for the occasion. Stopping at his feet, she shook her head. "Why don't you…take your sneakers off?" she asked, badly suppressing her amusement. "Feel the sand between your toes."

Wincing, Grissom looked down at his feet and dug his right toe into the sand. "I don't much like sand between my toes."

Sara didn't let that put her off. "How about your shirt? I mean, you look the part, but…" she let her words trail meaningfully.

Grissom's lips twisted. "Alright, the shirt's coming off. But only if you put sunscreen on me."

Sara narrowed her eyes at him. "Deal, but only if you repay the favour afterwards."

"I positively look forward to it," Grissom said, his smile as wide as she'd ever seen it.

He put his book down and sitting forward took off his shirt but, instead of undoing the buttons, he pulled it off over his head, getting it caught on the straw hat. Laughing, Sara pushed to her feet and rummaged in her backpack for the sunscreen. Grissom stood and, after he'd got himself untangled and put his hat back on, she sprayed lotion onto his front she began massaging in, making sure she didn't miss any spots. When she finished, she looked up and met his gaze, shyly returning his tender smile before motioning for him to turn around. He stared at her for a moment longer, the smile staying on his lips, before he finally offered his back to her.

"I appreciate the sacrifice," she said, as gently she began rubbing lotion onto his shoulders.

"What sacrifice?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse as he turned his face toward her.

"You agreeing to come here to the beach with me." She kept her eyes on his back as she continued spreading the sunscreen. "I appreciate that this isn't your first choice of holiday destination."

Fully turning toward her, he caught her eyes, his expression earnest and sincere as he spoke. "Honey, there's no place else I'd rather be at this moment in time than here with you." A cheeky smile formed, tugging at his lips. "And your hands massaging my skin."

She made an unconvinced sound.

"It's true," he laughed. "Sara, honestly, this is great. I'm happy just to spend a little time with you like this. When's the last time we did that?"

Sara's expression softening with love, she held his gaze and stroked her hand to his bearded cheek. "Without Hank? Never."

"Exactly."

She pressed her lips to the side of his mouth. "You know I love you, right?"

His smile widening pleasurably, he brought his hands up to cup her face. "And I love you," he said, moving to kiss her lips tenderly. "Now turn around so I can do your back before you start to burn."

The smile lingering on her face, Sara did as bid. She took off her cap and gathering her hair twisted it in a makeshift bun before trapping it under the cap. Grissom gently lowered the straps of her one-piece swimsuit off her shoulders and sprayed a little sunscreen. Closing her eyes, Sara dipped her head and enjoyed the feel of his strong hands as he worked the lotion into her skin and the kinks from her shoulders and neck.

"I love being able to be like this with you," she said, turning her face toward him.

"Like what?"

She shrugged. "Just like a normal couple. You know, not having to look over our shoulders in case anyone's looking, or worry that we're breaking the rules."

Grissom's hands stilled. "Me too." Slowly, he pushed the straps back up onto her shoulders. "Voilà," he then said. "You want me to do your front too?"

A wide smile on her face, Sara turned around on the spot. "How can I refuse when you put it so eloquently?"

Grissom pursed his lips, feigning offence at her teasing, but happily obliged all the same. They'd been catching the sun in companionable silence for some time, he sitting in his chair reading his book and Sara lying prone on her towel, when she looked up from her magazine toward him. Despite the fact that his book was still open in front of him, the slump of his shoulders and slight slackness of his jaw told Sara he had dozed off.

Smiling, she pushed up to her feet and checked that his shoulders and chest weren't reddening too much. Satisfied that he was fine, she turned to look at the ocean, scanned her eyes over the idyllic landscape and smiled. The pull of the ocean once again too hard to resist, she retrieved the wet suit and was slipping it on when Grissom woke up.

"Sorry," he said, sitting up groggily, "I just shut my eyes for a minute."

"It's okay. I'm going to go back in if you don't mind."

"Go back where?" he asked. "To the B&B?"

"No. To the water. Catch a few more waves before the tide's too high and we have to make tracks. There won't be much beach left soon."

Grissom gave a nod. "The water can't be that warm if you've got to wear this thing," he remarked as she finished putting the suit on.

She shrugged. "Helps with the chafing too."

"Ah."

She was pulling at the cord to do up the back zipper when Grissom stood up. "Let me," he said, motioning for her to turn around.

Smiling, Sara stopped and offered him her back and he did the suit up for her. She thanked him with a smile, but shaking his head he tapped his lips. Her smile broadening, she dutifully kissed him on the lips and he closed his arms around her for a long embrace. Then she picked up the board and removed her sunglasses and cap before shaking her hair loose.

"I'll only be ten-fifteen minutes," she said.

His lips twitched, twisting left then right before he sat back down on his chair. "Hold on," he called, pulling at his laces when she began walking to the water. "I'll just…come to the edge and…dip my toes in the water. See what all the fuss is about."

Sara's face lit up, and she waited impatiently while he took his sneakers and socks off. Standing, he took a step on the sand and then another. "It's not as bad as I remembered," he said, and she laughed.

"How long has it been?" she asked as they walked down to the water's edge.

"What? Since I've been to the beach?"

She nodded. "And the shores of Lake Mead don't count."

He pulled a face as he thought about it. "You don't want to know."

Sara stepped into the water confidently, walking purposefully until she was knee-deep while Grissom was more cautious, but after a little encouragement they were both standing, waist deep in water. A bigger wave broke ahead of them and Grissom took a few steps back while Sara pushed forward assuredly before turning and lying down on the board when the next wave came. She rushed past him, over and over again. They were splashing, laughing and having fun. He still wouldn't go on the board, but at least she'd got him into the water, no mean feat in itself.

When the water began lapping at her towel, it was time to go. They got out and after Grissom helped Sara out of the wet suit, they hurriedly got dry. Grissom put his shirt and hat back on. While he began packing his book and chair away, Sara wrapped her towel around herself so she could change out of her wet swimsuit and into her clothes without being seen.

"Do you need a hand?" Grissom asked, laughing.

Her brow arching, Sara gave him a look.

He raised his hands by his side. "Hey, I just meant…I'd hold the towel for you."

"You know what?" she said, casting a quick look around the beach. As no one was looking, she dropped the towel to the sand and quickly lowered the straps over her shoulders and the one-piece suit down to her waist.

"I mean…this way works fine too," Grissom said, matter-of-factly. Reaching for her T-shirt inside her bag, he passed it to her. "Better in fact."

Laughing, she snatched the T-shirt out of his hand and quickly slipped it over her head.

"Oh, how I wish I'd known you where you were young," he said.

She frowned. "How do you mean… _young_?" she exclaimed, unsure whether she should get offended by his words.

He batted her comment aside. "I meant when you were twenty, at college maybe." A smile formed, tugging mischievously at his lips. "On spring break."

She giggled. "Believe me, you don't. And besides, I wasn't this carefree back then. Or happy," she added, meaningfully.

Giving her a soft smile, he reached for her shorts and, after lowering her swimsuit down her legs, she slipped into them.

"Commando," he said. "I like it."

"The B&B is only across the road. I don't think anyone will notice."

"I've noticed all right."

They shared a long smile before they leaned across for a soft kiss on the lips.

"Did you ever go on spring break?" she asked as she wrapped her swimsuit in the towel and put the towel in her bag.

"No, not really. Not my scene, is it? Not like it's come to mean anyway."

"I tell you what," she said, shouldering her backpack. "Why don't we call this little vacation our very own spring break?"

"Because it's June?"

"Still springtime, for a few more days anyway."

Grissom's brow creasing, he looked up to the sky.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, puzzled when still looking skyward he kept quiet.

"I was wondering if it was too late to change tomorrow's plans."

Sara followed his gaze, saw nothing except a few white clouds and a couple of gulls circling over cliffs beyond. "Change them to what?" she asked, her confusion intensifying.

Grissom met her gaze. "Delta Airlines. Flight 1109. Boston-Miami. March…" He frowned, "…94?"

The penny dropped. "93. It was March 93." She watched him with disbelief. "You remember?"

He gave a sheepish shrug. "I remember everything you say."

Sara gave him an indulgent smile. "Then, you will recall that I also said the experience was _way_ overrated." Taking a step closer, she took his hand. "No. I think you should stick to your original plans. I'm having a much better time anyway."

Grissom lifted his free hand and stroked her face before their lips met for another kiss. "Then I will."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _Afternoon Delight_ is a 1976 song by American band, _Starland Vocal Band_.

 _Blood Sugar Sex Magik_ is a 1991 song by American band _, Red Hot Chili Peppers._

While there is a restaurant called _Las Brisas_ in Laguna Beach, I have made up everything about it. ;-)

* * *

"Dibs on the shower," Sara called, once again easing her shorts out of her…backside. They were stepping out of the store where they'd just dropped off the wet suit and bodyboard she'd rented.

"What? You're regretting going pantie-free?"

Her eyes widening, Sara cast a look around, but no one was within earshot.

Grissom teasingly pulled at the back of her shorts, pretending to take a sneak peek, and wriggling forward she snatched his hand away. "Gil!"

Grissom beamed at her. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself," he said, not contrite at all.

Sara narrowed her eyes at him. "Just for that, you're buying dinner."

Swapping the folding chair into his left hand, Grissom wrapped his now free arm around Sara and gently pulled her to him. "I was going to anyway."

"You know I'll get back at you for that, right?"

He pecked her on the cheek. "I have no doubt you will."

Her head shaking, Sara snuggled up to him and they walked on. The Mercedes was parked in the small parking lot at the front of the B&B and, after Sara had retrieved the keys from the backpack, he stowed his chair into the trunk. The B&B's entrance door was open and placing his hand in the small of her back Grissom guided Sara into the lobby. Mrs Garcia, the elderly proprietor, stood there, a small watering can in her hand. She turned toward them with a start. Both removed their sunglasses.

"Mr and Mrs Grissom! Your scared me! I wasn't expecting you back so early."

Grissom and Sara shared a look. He'd made the booking for a double room under the name of Grissom, so it wasn't surprising that Mrs Garcia assumed they were married. He hadn't bothered to put her right, but it looked like Sara wanted to. Her brow creased, she opened her mouth, but Grissom shrugged and shook his head, indicating that it didn't matter.

"You'll want your key," Mrs Garcia said, moving behind the small counter.

"Thank you," Sara said, refocusing.

"How was the beach? Did you have a good time?"

"We did, thank you," Grissom replied.

Mrs Garcia gave Sara the key. Once again pulling at her shorts, Sara made to leave, headed toward the stairs, but Grissom didn't follow. Looking back, she stopped and watched him with puzzlement.

"You go ahead," he said. "I'll just…" He turned and vaguely waved toward the information display on the right. "I'll only be five minutes."

Sara narrowed her eyes at him in a question Grissom had no intention of answering.

"I won't be long," he said again, and smiled sweetly at her.

Her eyes flicked to Mrs Garcia watching the interaction with interest. "Alright," she said, grudgingly, suspiciously, "I'll head on up."

"Mrs Garcia," he said in a quiet voice, as soon as Sara had rounded the corner out of sight, "You wouldn't happen to know where I can find a grocery store nearby, would you?"

"Sure," she replied easily. "The nearest one is half-a-mile down the Coast Highway."

Grissom's face fell as he thought that he'd have to take the car. Removing his hat, he scratched at the back of his head while wondering how he'd manage to sneak off without Sara noticing.

"What is it you're after?"

He glanced toward the stairwell. "Well," he said, leaning on the counter and lowering his voice to a whisper, "I'm taking Sara out tomorrow on an excursion and I wanted to organise a picnic of sorts."

"A day out?" Mrs Garcia repeated, echoing Grissom's whisper.

Nodding, he brought a shushing finger to his lips. "But it's a surprise, so not a word to Sara, please."

A glint in her eyes, Mrs Garcia pretended to zip her mouth shut and throw away the key. "I tell you what," she said, "leave it with me. I'll put a little lunch together for you and Mrs Grissom."

Grissom's face lit up. "You will?"

Mrs Garcia gave a firm nod. "Sure. At a price, of course."

His smile stiffened. "Of course. Just add it to the bill."

"It'll be ready tomorrow morning. You can pick it up at breakfast."

"That's great. Thank you." He was going to leave when he turned back. "No meat please, in the sandwiches," he instructed. "Sara's a—"

"Vegetarian, I know. I remember from this morning."

Grissom smiled gratefully. "Also," he said as an afterthought, "Would you happen to have a large plastic bag I could borrow?"

Mrs Garcia frowned. "A plastic bag?"

"A large one."

Mrs Garcia watched Grissom with puzzlement.

"Like a trash bag maybe? A trash bag would be perfect."

"Sure. I have a trash bag."

"Two actually. Two would be better. You never know."

Mrs Garcia's puzzlement intensified. "What kind of… _excursion_ are you going on, Mr Grissom?"

He tapped the side of his nose. "That, I can't tell you. It's a surprise, remember?"

With a parting smile, Grissom gathered his hat and sunglasses from the counter and turned on his heels, taking the stairs two at a time. He frowned on noticing that the door to their room was ajar, but then realised Sara had wedged one of her sandals between the door and frame to keep the door open so he could let himself in. He picked up the sandal and carefully closed the door after him, swiftly locating Sara by the sound of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom.

Quickly, while the coast was clear, he checked the detail of the booking for the following day's excursion and made sure he'd thought of everything. When Sara turned off the water in the shower, he gathered his documents and put them all away in the side pocket of his travel bag. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, taking his shoes and socks off, when Sara came in.

"Ah, you're back," she said.

He balled his dirty socks inside his sneakers and moved them under the bed. "I am."

"You got everything organised?"

Grissom did a double take. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, matter-of-fact, glancing up.

She made an unconvinced sound. "Shower's free by the way."

He paused and watched her tenderly. She'd combed her wet hair back, and stood naked under a towel she held around herself. "Come here," he bid quietly, and a smile forming on her lips Sara walked over to him, coming to a stop between his legs. Looking up to her face, he linked his hands behind her waist and rested the side of his face against her stomach.

"You okay?" she asked, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head hesitantly. "Something happened?"

He looked up and shook his head softly. "I'm just…I don't know…happy, I guess."

The smile spread wider across Sara's face. He stood up, and they embraced. When they pulled apart, the towel around her fell, and he found himself mesmerised. He brought his eyes up to her face, then back down to her chest. His hand lifted of its own accord, his fingers moving to stroke around the curve of her left breast, gently teasing the nipple. Sara repressed a shiver, and the nipple hardened. Feeling the familiar stirring in his groin, he looked back up to her face. His message was clear; _how about a little_ …his mouth twitched wickedly… _afternoon delight?_

 _Afternoon delight?_ her smiley eyes replied, narrowing imperceptibly. _I'm far too young to get the reference. Now if you'd said, how about a little_ _Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magik I would have understood straightaway._

His eyes were as soft, as loving and caressing as the smile on his lips. _Oh, you understood all right._

Her smile widened devilishly. "I'm hungry," she said, playfully batting his hand away. "And you're covered in sand and salt." Laughing, she bent to pick up the towel and thrust it into his hand. "So, how about you get yourself in that shower, while I get ready?"

He pulled a face. "On the cold setting, huh?"

Her smile was wide and beautiful. "If you need to."

He ran longing eyes over her body. "Spoilsport," he said, tossing the towel over his shoulder as defeated he made his way to the bathroom.

With a wistful sigh, he turned the water on in the shower and while it got up to temperature took off his shirt and board shorts, leaving them in a pile on the floor. In the shower, he used Sara's shampoo to wash his hair free of salt and sand, then scrubbed the rest of his body, especially between his toes. It wasn't that he didn't like the beach, or the sand and salt and sunscreen that went with it, he just minded the way he felt afterwards, grubby and scratchy and in need of a good all-over scour.

Even after the shower, Grissom still felt a little…itchy. He dried his face and hair, tied a towel around his waist, then wiped the steam from the mirror and studied his hazy reflection, surprised at the smile adorning his lips. He told Sara that he was happy, and he was, giddily so it seemed, which was rather silly after all this time. It wasn't as though he and Sara were on their first or second or even third date, but it felt like it. He knew he didn't need to impress her anymore, that she knew and loved him, quirks and faults and all, but he wanted to.

Whistling quietly to himself, he combed back his wet hair and came out of the bathroom. Sara was sitting on the bed in her bra and panties, painting her toenails, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "Interesting choice of outfit," he said with a wry arch of his brow.

Keeping her eyes on her painting, Sara laughed. "I didn't want to crease my dress."

 _Dress?_ His brow furrowed at the fact that she was putting so much care and effort into their evening. They'd booked a table for two in _Las Brisas_ , the beachfront restaurant with views on the ocean nearly opposite the B&B, which had come highly recommended by Mrs Garcia during breakfast. He'd only brought a pair of smart jeans and his navy button-down shirt to go out in, and he hoped he wouldn't stand out too much. He finished drying himself, then rummaged in his travel bag for a clean pair of boxer shorts.

"I'm really starving," she said. "This morning's breakfast seems like days ago."

Laughing, he looked over his shoulder at her. "No wonder. With all the exercise you did today." He slipped his boxers on, then checked the time on his watch but he'd taken it off at the beach. "How long until you're ready?" he asked, pausing.

She fanned her toes, then screwed the lid back on the bottle of nail varnish. "Why?"

"Just so I know how long I've got to get myself ready."

Scoffing, Sara gave him a look that said, _are you kidding me? It takes you no more than five minutes to get ready_. "I've got to let these dry, do my hair and put the dress on. So…fifteen minutes?"

"Perfect," he said and shutting himself in the bathroom began a little grooming.

"Don't forget to hang your towels to dry!" she called from the other room. "And the shower mat too. And you'll need to put your shorts out onto the balcony to dry for tomorrow!"

"Yes, dear," he muttered, his eyes steadfast on his reflection.

When he'd finished, Grissom dutifully picked up the pile of wet towels and mat off the floor and lay them out to dry on the rack. His shorts, still damp from the sea, he put into the sink to tidy away later. When he came out, Sara was slipping some low-heeled sandals on. She'd kept her hair down, had put a little makeup on that emphasised her newly-bronzed face. She stood up and smiled before smoothing down her dress a little self-consciously. There was a question in her eyes, and he walked over to her.

"You look lovely," he said, answering the question, and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Even if you can see the tan lines?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. " _Because_ you can see the tan lines. All evening as I watch you I'll be thinking of you on that board." She wore a strappy summer dress that hugged her chest and waist perfectly then flared out a little, stopping just above the knee. The blue and white circle pattern was almost spellbinding. "I haven't seen this dress before," he said, refocusing on her face. "Is it new?"

Her lips twitched with pleasure. "No. I just never had the chance to wear it before."

His brow arching enticingly, he slid a lazy finger under one of the shoulder straps. "I like it."

"Come on," she said, her growing smile betraying her stern tone, "Quit goofing around or we'll never make it for five."

He pursed his face, feigning offence at the rebuke. "Yes, Ma'am," he said, bringing two fingers to his temple in salute, and moving to the travel bag, took out his jeans and navy button-down shirt, shaking out the creases on both before quickly putting them on. Then he looked for some clean socks and his black shoes. While he put those on, Sara checked her phone, then carefully stowed it in her purse. Ready, Grissom located his sunglasses and wallet, then made sure he had the key to the room and opened the door.

"Don't think I haven't noticed," Sara said, as she stepped past him. Stopping, she touched her hand to his freshly trimmed beard and smiling softly gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You smell nice too!"

"Now who's goofing around, huh?" he said, smiling widely, pleased that she'd noticed.

As soon as they stepped out into the bright sunshine, they put their sunglasses on. Grissom held out his hand to her and she took it, entwining her fingers through his as they set off down the sidewalk.

"So tomorrow," she asked, keeping her tone light and casual, as they crossed the road over toward _Las Brisas_.

"Yes?" he said, a half-smile forming, knowing how much it killed her not to know what he'd planned.

"Does it involve sand?"

His smile growing, he considered his reply. "I guess, but not as much as today." He gave her a long, sideways look. "And not between our toes."

She laughed. "Water?"

Letting go of her hand, he dropped back so she could comfortably fit past a group of young men carrying surfboards. "Definitely."

Sara's eyes narrowing musingly, she looked back toward him. "Does it involve driving anywhere?"

Joining her side again, Grissom pursed his mouth. "Nope."

"So, we're staying here, at Laguna Beach."

He pursed his mouth thoughtfully. "In a manner of speaking."

Sara opened her mouth to talk again, but stopping in his tracks Grissom cut her short.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then quit trying to guess and spoil the surprise. All I'll say is that I'm pretty sure you'll have a good time."

"Pretty sure, huh?"

His smile reappeared. "Yeah." He squeezed her hand, and falling into step again they walked up to the restaurant entrance.

"And you?" she asked, as he pulled the door open for her. "Will you have a good time too?"

"Oh, most definitely."

Grissom took off his sunglasses, then led Sara toward the Maître D' coming over to greet them. "We have a table booked for five. Under Grissom?"

"Certainly." The Maître D' checked his list, then picked up two leather-bound menus and opened his hand, indicating they should follow him.

They waked through the main restaurant and through glass doors that folded back out onto an outdoor roof-covered patio area. Many of the tables were already occupied, but not all. Soft Mariachi music played in the background. The landscaping was discreet and had been carefully designed to allow for unrestricted views of the ocean and surrounding cliffs. He looked over at Sara, saw that she was suitably impressed. The Maître D' showed them their table, then pulled the chair back for Sara and she sat down a little uncertainly. Grissom did the same across from her, and they took the proffered menus.

"Gil, this place looks expensive," she said, looking all around the patio as soon as the Maître D' was out of earshot.

"It probably is." He shrugged. "Let's treat ourselves for once, shall we? We've never done anything like this before, you said so yourself earlier at the beach. And anyway, it's on me, remember?" He opened his menu for good measure and watched as Sara hesitantly did the same.

"Let's hope the food's worth it then," she mumbled. "'Cos I'm hungry."

Grissom ignored her tone and hoped that the food was indeed worth the hefty price tag.

"Okay. I know what I'm having," he said, closing his menu.

"Let me guess," she said, looking up over the top of her menu. "The Calamari?"

"Of course. And then I'm going to have the lamb."

"You're having both a starter and a main course?"

"And so are you. So quit stalling, or I'll order for you."

Grudgingly she turned her attention back to the menu, finally settling for the mussels followed by the Three Sisters Vegan Ragu. They ordered a pitcher of Lazy Days Sangria to go with the food and while waiting for their drinks to arrive Grissom reached for Sara's hand on the table and they turned toward the view. A sense of deep peace and tranquillity permeated the air and their conversation. The food was delectable, the company even more so, and Grissom didn't regret a cent from the $133 he had to pay for the privilege.

"It's still early," Grissom said, as they stepped out of the restaurant. "Shall we go for a walk on the beach?"

"The beach?" she exclaimed, laughing. "I would have thought you'd had enough of the beach for one day."

"I thought we could watch the sunset," he said, a little unsure all of a sudden. "It should be at about two minutes past eight tonight."

Sara watched him with disbelief. "You looked it up?"

"One likes to keep one's timing right."

Sara leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. "I'd love to, thank you. And thank you too for a lovely meal."

"You're welcome."

Grissom wished he had thought of bringing a towel they could sit on to watch the sunset, even offered to run back to the B&B for one so that Sara didn't dirty her dress, but Sara refused, insisting that it didn't matter. She took her sandals off, sinking her feet into the sand, and he shook his head at her blatant teasing. _His_ shoes stayed on. They sat on the cooling sand, with his arm draped around her and her head on his shoulder, watching the ocean and the circle of setting sun getting smaller and smaller until it got swallowed up, or so it seemed.

Words weren't needed and they didn't speak any, content to simply enjoy the scenery and each other's company. He'd told her that he had never been on a Spring Break, and he hadn't, but had he known her when he was a young man at college he'd have done things differently. Were this scene to take place thirty years prior, he might have even make love to her there and then under the cover of the stars. And then he winced and erased that thought from his mind, because when he started college Sara was still a toddler.

Instead, they walked on a little further, stopping at one of the many ice cream parlours dotted along the coast before retracing their steps back to the B&B while savouring their double-scooped ice creams. He let them into the room, took his shoes off and headed to the bathroom. His board shorts and Tommy Bahama shirt were still in the sink, festering, and he pulled the dry towels from the rack, replacing them with his beach clothes. Then he took care of business, washed his hands and brushed his teeth.

When he came out of the bathroom, Sara was lying on the bed in her bra and panties, a vision to behold in the dim bedside light. She stirred a little. Quickly he got undressed, leaving his clothes where they fell on the wood floor. He climbed on the bed and frowned. "Sara?"

"Mmm."

He scoffed and stared with disbelief. With a put-upon sigh, he turned off the light and lied down beside her. Instinctively, she shifted closer to him, curling herself into his side with a loud exhalation.

Laughing softly, he pressed his lips to her head. "Good night sweetheart."

She mumbled something unintelligible, then turned onto her side and he did too, inching forward until his body moulded hers perfectly.

Closing his eyes, he kissed the back of her shoulder.

And lulled by the sound of her soft snoring promptly fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Rating changing to M for the start of this chapter. Read responsibly please. ;-)

* * *

When Sara woke, the room was in darkness, but enough street light filtered in through the only-partially closed curtains that she could see around. Grissom was fast asleep, curled up behind her with his arm tightly wound around her waist. She'd have gladly stayed in his warm embrace but she needed to pee – urgently. She clenched her pelvic muscles, and slowly lifted his arm off her while simultaneously inching her way to the edge of the bed, trying to slip out without disturbing him.

In the bathroom, she pulled the chord to turn on the dim light over the sink and while her eyes got accustomed took care of business. Done, she washed her hands, then briefly studied her reflection in the mirror, taking in her tousled hair and sleepy eyes. She scratched her shoulder blade and smiled on realising she was still wearing her underwear. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she must have done while Grissom had been in the bathroom getting ready for bed.

He'd taken rather a long time, and she could well imagine his disappointment when he'd come out and found her asleep. Her smile widened mischievously. Especially considering what she'd been wearing. They'd had a lovely evening together, so relaxed and loving, and she was sure he hadn't expected it to end the way it had. To be perfectly honest, neither had she.

She was going back to bed when she ran her tongue over her teeth. Her brow lifting, she went back to the bathroom to brush them. Who knew what morning would bring – well, hopefully. A smile twitching at her lips, she went back to the room. Grissom was still snoring softly and she watched him for a moment, a fond look on her face. She removed her bra, tossing it at the end of the bed, and slipped back under the sheet. Then she turned onto her side with her back to him before gently shimmying backwards until her bottom hit something soft and gentle.

He stirred, breathed heavily then spoke something she didn't make out and shifted behind her, once again draping his arm over her. Sara snuggled up a little closer into his warmth, then resting her hand on top of his against her stomach hugged him to her and closed her eyes. A deep sense of peace and contentment enveloped her and soon she felt herself drift off again. When she next stirred, her eyes slowly fluttering open, bright sunlight flooded into the room through the gaps in the curtains. She closed her eyes again, not quite ready to face the morning. Grissom pressed his lips to the back of her shoulder, and a smile forming she let out a long, languid breath.

"Hey," she said, keeping her eyes closed as slowly she turned on the mattress toward him.

"Did you sleep well?"

She opened her eyes. "Like a baby."

Gently brushing hair out of her face, he gave her a slow, lazy smile and they kissed. "A baby, huh?"

Sara stretched languidly, teasingly, and watched his smile grow, twitching happily as his eyes followed the movement of the bedsheet as it uncovered her breasts. "You?"

Opening his mouth and then shutting it again, he forced his eyes back to her face.

Knowing the effect her first stretch had had on him, she stretched again, bringing her arms up this time, causing the sheet to move further down to her navel.

He touched his fingertip to the curve of her breast. "You seem to…" With a hard swallow, he glanced back up. "…have misplaced an item of clothing."

"Not misplaced," she said, holding his gaze levelly. "Just…discarded."

His brow rising, he pulled the sheet down, uncovering her panties. "And yet you kept those on."

"All the more to tease you," she laughed, brushing her upper leg, oh not so accidentally, against his length. "I know how much you enjoy taking them off for me."

Lips twitching naughtily, he moved on top of her and taking hold of her wrists pinned them down level with her shoulders. "Oh, you do, do you?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I do."

"You're such a tease."

Just to prove his point, her tongue came out, licking at her bottom lip, and he laughed. His eyes darkening with desire, he held her gaze for long seconds before he leaned down and kissed her lips. He was still holding her down. Trusting him fully, implicitly, she closed her eyes and let the sensations build. He kept the kiss light and teasing, his mouth slowly moving to her chin and neck, trailing down her sternum to her breasts, her stomach.

Completely at his mercy, she could only writhe under him, rubbing herself to him, moving this way and that to allow access, her pelvis and chest rising up and down in time with each rasping breath she took. He stopped when he reached her panties, and she reopened her eyes, meeting his enquiring gaze dead on.

 _Off now_? he was asking, catching the waistband between his teeth.

A soft smile forming, she arched her back toward him. _Hell yes._

She made to raise her hands to help with the removal of said panties, but Grissom kept her pinned down, his hold on her wrists firm yet gentle, and shook his head.

 _You wanted to tease me_ , his eyes said. _Now it's my turn._

More than happy to comply, she lay back down and closed her eyes, once again concentrating on the pulsating need building inside her.

"Open your eyes," he bid in a hoarse whisper.

Sara did as requested. Holding her gaze, he began kissing his way back up, his lips skimming over her stomach, her breasts, his tongue darting out to stroke and brush at one nipple. Watching him take pleasure in making her come alive was such a turn on. She could feel his erection through the gossamer fabric of her panties and she wished he would take them off already, that or let go of her hands so she could touch and feel him, stroke, taste and tease him as he was doing to her. When hungrily he began sucking at her breast, she closed her eyes and tried to free her hands again, the moan that came out of her mouth raw and needy.

The thought of being loved, of being desired like that, left her breathless. She pulled against his hold and tried to sit up, but he held her fast. Helpless, powerless, she ground herself to him, hoping he'd take the hint, but still the panties stayed on. When he could hold her no more, he let go of her wrists and she sat up, pulling his head up from her breasts and seeking his mouth for a long and hungry kiss while her hands stroked and teased his body as much as his had done moments before. Breathing hard, he pulled back from her and finally, slowly, ever so slowly, frustratingly so, slid down her body and began lowering the panties down her legs.

He licked his lips, met her gaze, and then they were kissing again and she guided him inside her, deep inside her, lifting her pelvis and wrapping her legs around him. He put his hands on her waist, holding her to him, and eyes wide open they began moving, slowly at first before they gathered speed. Sara met each of his thrusts, her desire for him, her need for him, continuing to build, swelling in ever-growing waves inside her until she closed her eyes and let herself go. He did too, soon afterwards.

"Remind me next time _not_ to keep my panties on," she said, laughing as they lay basking in the afterglow.

"Why ever not?" he asked, pushing up on his elbow and tenderly stroking his eyes over her sweaty body. "When keeping them on helps prolong the experience and heightens one's desire?"

" _One's_ desire?" she queried with a lift of her brow.

Smiling widely, he ran a soft fingertip up her inner leg. "Mine, certainly, but yours too." His touch elicited a shiver of pleasure she didn't try to suppress. "You're far too impatient."

A smile tugged at her lips. "Is that so?"

He nodded slowly. "We both know I'm the patient one in the relationship."

She laughed. "I waited five years for you to make a move. I think that makes me patient."

He acknowledged her point with a nod. "In certain areas, I'll grant you that." He touched the tip of her nose. "In others? Not so much."

She pulled a face, and he laughed.

"I'm not complaining," he went on quickly. "Far from it. I think we complement each other perfectly." He moved to kiss her lips. "As we demonstrated just then. And very adeptly, if I may say so myself."

Her smile returning, Sara shook his head at him in disbelief. He was right, of course, she thought as she kissed him back. They did complement each other perfectly, and that in more ways than one.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you last night," she said a cheeky smile pulling at her lips when they pulled apart.

"Don't be." His lips twitching a little too smugly for her liking, he lay down fully onto his back and crossed his arms under his head. "I mightn't have…performed as well."

Sara gently nudged him in the side, and looking over at her he laughed. "I had the best time last night," she told him sincerely.

His expression softened. "Me too."

With a sigh, she stretched back, crossing her arms under her head in a mirror pose to his. "So today…" she tried, with a hopeful sideways look toward him. He was watching her.

Turning toward the bedside table, he pushed up onto his elbow and checked the time on his watch. "Today doesn't start for another two hours or so."

His tone told her not to probe further. "What time is it now?"

"Almost a quarter to eight."

She sighed.

"There," he said, "case in point."

She fixed him with a frown.

"You're impatient."

She gave him a grudging smile. "Not impatient. Just eager."

"Semantics."

"I just have one question."

"Go on."

"What should I wear?"

"Same as yesterday. Beach stuff, comfortable stuff. The rest I got covered."

She turned her gaze back to the ceiling. She was thinking a boat tour to go dolphin or whale watching. Or snorkelling maybe? Paddle boarding? The thought of Grissom doing either of those made her smile. She looked over to him again, but he'd closed his eyes. Once again shifting onto her side, she nuzzled her head in the crook of his shoulder with her arm around him. "The guys will be clocking off soon," she said, giving up trying to guess. "Do you think they suspect anything?"

Idly, he began stroking up and down the back of her leg. "I don't think so. We've had nights off together before and they never did."

"Yeah, but never three in a row."

He opened his eyes, met her gaze and shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I don't."

Nodding, Sara gave him a smile, but she did worry about it, especially for him, because ultimately he had a lot more to lose than she did. She would like to think that if the guys did indeed suspect something, and were to find out the truth, then they'd keep it a secret. The news would probably come as a shock to them, but hopefully they'd accept their relationship for what it was. A smile formed suddenly; how stunned would they be if they saw them right at that moment?

After a few minutes dozing, Grissom got up to use the bathroom, then retrieved his Reacher book and after he'd returned to bed she snuggled up to him again. They spent another half-hour in bed, with him reading his book and her reading over his shoulder, before they got up, dressed, and made their way down to breakfast. Mrs Garcia greeted them in the breakfast room and they sat down at a table near the window.

Grissom and Mrs Garcia shared a long look, as if having a silent conversation, before she took their order, and Sara's eyes narrowed questioningly, suspiciously. Again, she wondered what he had organised for the day and how Mrs Garcia fitted into his plans. He looked over at her and tapped the side of his nose, and she shook her head.

They were half-way through their continental breakfast when Mrs Garcia walked up to their table, coffeepot in hand, ready to top up their drinks. They both nodded their heads, and she obliged. "Anything else I can do for you?" she then asked pleasantly.

Grissom brought his hand to his mouth while quickly he finished his mouthful. "Actually, yes," he said, looking up. "I was just wondering if perhaps you could prepare our bill for us? I'll settle it this morning before we go out for the day."

Mrs Garcia registered a look of surprise. "I thought you were staying for three nights. Is something wrong with your room maybe? I mean—"

"No, nothing like that," he cut in, and looked at Sara. "The room's fine. In fact, everything's fine. We're having a lovely time."

"The best time," Sara chipped in, smiling devilishly.

Grissom gave his head a shake. "We did book for three night and will pay for three night," he went on, refocusing, "But we'll be leaving sometime around midnight."

"Midnight?" Mrs Garcia repeated, looking bemused.

"That's right." Grissom and Sara shared a look. "That way we should be back home by the morning, ready to go to sleep for the day. We work nights."

"Very well," Mrs Garcia said, looking bemused. "If that's everything. Mr Grissom, Mrs Grissom," she added, moving away.

 _There she goes again_ , Sara thought, and still he said nothing. "Mrs Garcia," Sara said, stopping the woman in her tracks. "Gil and I aren't married. My name's not Mrs Grissom."

"Sweetie, don't you think I know that?" Giving Sara a wide, congenial smile, Mrs Garcia reached for Sara's hand on the table with both hers and patted it somewhat…obsequiously. "But in this line of work you learn to be discreet, and open-minded."

Sara frowned, then returning Mrs Garcia's smile a little stiffly nodded her head.

"Have fun on your… _excursion_." Mrs Garcia went on her way and Sara refocused on Grissom, who was trying not to laugh.

"No," she said, her head shaking, the full implication of what Mrs Garcia had said only then registering, "You don't think—"

"Oh, yes. Definitely," Grissom said, his amusement spilling.

Eyes narrowing, she looked over to where Mrs Garcia stood chatting to an elderly couple a few tables away. Could the elderly proprietor really believe she was Grissom's mistress? That he'd left a wife at home, children even, so he could have a naughty getaway with his bit on the side? She didn't know whether to feel offended or laugh.

"You're no bit on the side," Grissom said solemnly, quietly, clearly reading her mind, and slowly she refocused on him. His lips were pinched as he tried to keep a straight face, but laughter bubbled out of him regardless.

"Does it not bother you?" she asked with disbelief.

"What she thinks? No. Not one little bit." Sobering up, he reached for her hand with both his and patted it in the same ingratiating way Mrs Garcia had done seconds before. "Girlfriend, mistress, wife... _lover_. They're just titles, right? To me, they're one and the same. They're all you."

Too stunned for words, Sara could only stare back at him, and giving her hand another squeeze he shrugged.

"What matters is what we feel for each other, the love and the life we share. Not what other people believe, or perceive us to be, because of appearances."

She opened her mouth and then shut it because no retort she could come up with could match the depth of his words.

"Come on," he said, picking up his coffee and bringing it to his mouth, seemingly none-the-wiser to the effect his words had had on her. To how much what he'd just said meant to her. "You got five minutes to finish your breakfast. And finish it you must, or you'll never go the distance."

Her smile returned, wide and dancing. "The distance?"

"With the paddle."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: In the chapter Grissom and Sara allude to a trip they took to Red Rock Canyon. You can read about it in another story of mine called _Man's Best Friend_. They shared their first kiss there.

* * *

"We're going on a canoe trip?" Sara exclaimed excitedly, before casting a look around the breakfast room self-consciously.

Feeling rather smug at her reaction, Grissom laughed. "Well…no," he said, playfully pausing between the words for effect, and finished spreading raspberry jam onto his piece of toast.

"We're not going on a canoe trip?" There was no mistaking the disappointment or confusion in her voice.

Slowly he shook his head and cut his piece of toast in half. "But close." After putting his knife down, he picked up the toast and looked up. Her brow pinched, she was watching him with intent and he gave her a smile. "We're going on a _kayak_ tour."

Sara stared at him with puzzlement. "Same thing," she said, dismissively, her wide smile returning.

Grissom frowned. "Well, no," he said, taking a bite out of his toast. "Not quite."

Pulling a face at him, Sara tore into her Danish.

"It's not," he insisted, and finished chewing. "Canoes and kayaks have very different shapes and very different sitting positions," he added, waving his toast in the air. "Notwithstanding the number of blades on the paddle. The _k_ _ayak_ paddle is double-bladed while the canoe paddle is not."

Sara's eyebrows lifting, she put a morsel of Danish into her mouth. "You seem to know a lot about it."

His smug smile returning, he raised his shoulder casually. "I _have_ done a little canoeing before."

Her lips twitched mischievously as she ate. "But I thought you just said we were going kayaking."

"Same difference," he said, with a sulky twist of the mouth.

Sara burst out laughing, and he did too.

"When?" she then asked. Picking up her cup of coffee, she took a careful sip. "When did you go canoeing?"

He finished the last of his toast. "Oh, years ago. Before we met. Way back when, you know."

Frowning, she put her cup down. "When you were _young_?"

He pulled a face at her undisguised sarcastic tone. "Yeah, when I was young." He smiled at the happy recollections. "I was working in Minnesota. It must have been my third year there?" He shrugged. "Anyways, I spent a month in Wheelers Point studying post-mortem interval and rates of decay on submerged and partially submerged bodies."

"Wheelers Point? Never heard of it."

"You wouldn't have. It's a small incorporated community on the shore of Lake of the Woods, right on the border with Ontario. Beautiful place, it was."

"You never mentioned it," she said, her expression serious now, interested.

He shrugged. "As you said, it was a long time ago."

"And you used canoes, not boats?"

"Canadian canoes. They create less water disturbance than boats, so we used them to get real close to the corpses." Feeling someone watching him, he paused, but when he looked over Mrs Garcia walked away. "So," he then asked, thinking nothing of it, turning back to Sara. "What about you? You been canoeing before?"

"Nope. Or _kayaking_ for that matter."

He gave her a grudging smile. "Next time, we'll go canoeing. You can see the difference for yourself."

"I look forward to it," she said, a wide smile dancing on her lips. "I just hope no one suspects anything back at the lab, or there mightn't be any more trips."

"They won't. We're hiding in plain sight, remember? And we're good at it too." Sara made an unconvinced sound, and he reached for her hand on the table, squeezed it. "Let's not worry about work, alright? Let's just…make the most of today. There should be plenty of wildlife to look at, sea birds and sea lions definitely, but maybe also dolphins and whales. Southern California has some of the largest dolphin and blue whale populations in the world. Hopefully, they'll come out to play for us."

Sara gave an enthusiastic nod before downing the last of her coffee. "So come on then," she said, grabbing the room keys from the table and pushing to her feet. "You go settle the bill and do whatever business you need to do with Mrs Garcia while I go get ready." She leaned down to kiss him on the lips, then with a happy smile turned on her heels and went on her way. Grissom hurriedly ate the croissant still waiting on his plate, finished his coffee, then picked up Sara's unfinished Danish and ate that too. God knows he would need all his strength and stamina for the day ahead.

At ten on the dot, Grissom and Sara presented themselves to Fisherman's Cove, one beach further south from Shaw's Cove where they'd spent the previous day, where they were due to launch from. Because it was south facing, the waves were small, the surf perfect for safe launching and landing. Grissom had packed the lunch Mrs Garcia had provided, as well as water, a beach towel, his camera and a couple of sweaters they could put on should the breeze turn stronger and colder while they were out at sea, in one of the trash bags and then stowed the trash bag inside the backpack he was carrying. He would put the backpack in the second trach bag lest it got wet while they were at sea.

Fisherman's Cove had a steep drop-off near the shore and a sharp rocky bottom in many places and they picked their step carefully. A few people were already gathered at the water's edge, talking to the female guide. Eight brightly coloured ocean kayaks and a stack of life vests and paddles awaited nearby. They made their way forward to introduce themselves, and the guide checked her list, cheerfully welcoming them. Bernadette had an easy smile and a friendly, inviting personality, and she couldn't wax lyrical about the impending tour enough.

While they waited for a couple more people to arrive, Sara walked over to study the kayaks and discreetly he made sure Bernadette knew of the particulars of his booking. Satisfied, he joined Sara and lifting his hat to scratch his head cast his eye out, staring at the expanse of dark blue Pacific Ocean stretching as far as he could see. He watched as a sailboat glided across the horizon a long way away, its sails full, the strong sea wind propelling it south toward the Mexican waters.

Bernadette gathered the group and went through the safety talk before explaining how to launch and paddle the kayak safely and effectively. After donning the mandatory red life vests, they were all allocated an ocean kayak, in Grissom and Sara's case a bright yellow one. Sharing a giddy smile, they each took a paddle from the stack, and after half pushing the kayak out into the water Sara carefully stepped on, taking her place at the front, while Grissom sat at the back. Gently, they got afloat and, when everyone had joined Bernadette's side on the water, they went on their way.

The ocean was calm, the kayak and their paddling steady. As noiselessly they glided along the coast, Bernadette would stop and point out sights of particular interest or beauty. Her knowledge of the local area, fauna and flora was extensive and Grissom and Sara were enthralled. The colours all around were vibrant, the smell intoxicating. They hugged the contoured coastline at first, marvelled at the green hills beyond, saw for themselves the abundant marine life in the pristine clear waters.

Every so often, they came across paddle-boarders or lone kayakers that would acknowledge their presence with a nod. It almost felt like they all belonged to a special club, a group of people that made one with nature and their surroundings. It was so calm, so peaceful out there, so soothing. Grissom found the experience almost therapeutic and he wished he and Sara didn't have to go back to Vegas so soon.

Bernadette headed further offshore, and they all followed. They weren't disappointed there either, as soon he saw a couple of splashes nearby, as if a bird had dived into the water, before a head popped up out of the water and then another and another, fun-loving sea lions seemingly watching them float by. He laughed. Sara turned around and pointed, making sure that he'd seen them, and they shared a long look and a happy smile. Silently, they paddled on around a small rocky island inhabited by tens of sea lions sunning themselves.

"Oh, my God, Gil. Look!" Sara exclaimed out of the blue, pointing to their right.

He turned to look, squinting into the sun, seeing only splashing at first until, a wide smile forming, he glimpsed at a pod of dark grey dolphins swimming between them and the shore, coming up to the surface to breathe before diving back into the water. Bernadette raised her paddle in the air, and everyone stopped to watch, entranced. A few of the dolphins ventured even closer, playing alongside them, swimming underneath the kayaks, much to the group's obvious delight. To be so close to them, especially seeing them in their natural setting, was just an amazing experience.

"Those are coastal bottlenose dolphins," Bernadette told the group quietly. "They're smaller than the dolphins you find offshore."

"They're naturally very curious animals," Grissom told Sara in a whisper.

"They're beautiful," she said, smiling at him over her shoulder.

He smiled back at her, happy that she was enjoying herself, that the tour was everything he'd hoped it would be, that yet again they were making memories they could treasure. Belatedly, he remembered he'd brought the camera. Carefully, he wedged the paddle against his waist and reached forward for the backpack. He rolled down the first trash bag, opened the backpack and then took the camera out of the second trash bag. He managed to take a few shots of the dolphins, one of Sara smiling widely, her expression intent as she watched them swim away. When they were gone, Bernadette called to the group that it was time to start heading back and he put the camera away.

"Are you going to be all right from here?" Bernadette asked, coming over.

"Sure," Grissom replied, while Sara turned a puzzled frown toward the pair.

"Okay then. I'll see you back at Fisherman's Cove no later than three pm," Bernadette said, with a meaningful look.

Grissom gave a nod.

"We don't want to have to send out a search party."

He smiled. "You won't have to."

"And watch out for the tide."

"We will."

"And no further than—"

"— Two Rock Point," he said, pointing to the cliff jutting out to sea up ahead. "I remember."

"Or you won't get back in time. Okay, then," Bernadette said, paddling away. "Enjoy your picnic."

Sara raised her paddle. "Thanks." And then staring at Grissom with confusion, "We're not going back with the group?"

"It would appear not," he said, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

"Gil?"

His smile widened giddily. "There should be a beach just around the corner. One that only exists at low tide. Or should do," he added with a lift of the shoulder. "If I got it right. We're going to land there and have lunch. And then leisurely head back the way we came."

"In time for three, huh?"

"Exactly."

A knowing smile formed. "And lunch. Courtesy of Mrs Garcia?"

He bowed his head in acquiescence. "Indeed."

Sara stared at him with disbelief for a long while before she turned forward again. Grissom put his paddle in the water, and she followed suit. They were paddling at a leisurely pace, admiring the view all around, when a sea lion popped its head right in front of them.

"They get so close you can almost touch them," Sara said, laughing.

"That's what I'm afraid of. I hope they stay away or we won't have a moment's peace."

"We're invading _their_ territory, Gil, not the other way around."

He pursed his mouth. "Still."

They reached the beach's shore, but landing wasn't easy on account of the uneven, rocky ground. Stronger waves were crashing against the rock at this point too, precariously swaying the kayak back and forth. Sara stood up to get off, putting one foot on a rock sticking out of the water. She was moving her second foot when the kayak pitched sideways and she lost balance, slipping off the rock and kayak into the water with a splash. Grissom just about managed to stay afloat.

"You hurt?" he asked, pinching his lips to curb his amusement. He made to stand on the kayak to go to her rescue but thought better of it when it began to rock even more.

Sara began to laugh, and he did too.

"I'm okay," she said, ungainly pushing to her feet, the water coming up to just above her ankles. "Just wet."

"I brought a towel," he said helpfully.

"Did you…anticipate I would fall in?"

He shrugged. "You'll soon dry in this heat."

"And so will you!" she said, suddenly splashing water at him with the paddle.

"Oh, no, you don't!" he called, paddling backwards out of reach, avoiding most of the water.

Giving up, she tossed the paddle onto the beach and clambered out of the water. Carefully, warily, he paddled as close to the shore as he could and after pretending to splash him again Sara pulled the front of the kayak onto the sandy beach between two rocks. After passing her the backpack, he disembarked, getting his feet a little wet but not much else.

With a shake of the head, she took off her life vest, tossing it on a nearby dry rock and he could only stare transfixed at the sight before him. Sara's T-shirt was wet through, her shorts too, clinging to her body in all the right places. It was a great shame she was wearing her swimsuit underneath, he thought, feeling himself stir. He watched as without wasting time she toed off her running shoes, removed her shorts and t-shirt and lay everything out to dry in the sun.

"Gil?"

Startling, he gave his head a shake.

"Towel?"

"Sure."

Quickly, he unpacked the backpack and handed the towel over to her. They pulled the kayak all the way out of the water, then made themselves comfortable on the beach. Grissom took off his life vest and T-shirt but not his sneakers and went off to explore. There was a shallow cave but the beach wasn't otherwise that large and he was back promptly. Sara was lying on the towel, sunning herself, her eyes closed behind her sunglasses. She looked at peace and relaxed, her earlier misadventure seemingly forgotten. The sight made him smile.

"You hungry?" he asked.

"I'm starving."

Grissom unpacked the picnic, finding a couple of plastic forks and plates in the mix. Sara sat up, making space for him on the towel, and they shared out the food, eating it silently, introspectively, simply content to stare out to sea or watch the wildlife going about their daily business around them. Mrs Garcia had put in a slice of quiche each and some pasta salad, as well as a selection of vegetables to snack on and a large bag of potato chips. There was a packet of cookies too, but they decided to keep them for later.

After an hour or so, Grissom noticed that the beach was gradually getting smaller, the rocks disappearing underwater until they were fully submerged. It was time to head back. Sara's clothes were mostly dry, but not her running shoes, so she decided to go barefoot while her footwear continued to dry on the kayak. Grissom packed up while she got dressed and carefully they launched the kayak again. They paddled out, soon finding a steady rhythm against the rising tide and the wind blowing in their face.

Grissom kept his eyes on the cliffs, making sure they never drifted too far from the shore, carefully counting the coves and beaches, ticking off the landmarks he'd memorised on the way up so that they didn't overshoot their destination. He needn't have worried for eventually they spotted Bernadette making her way back with another group and joined her.

When finally they landed back at Fisherman's Cove and returned the equipment they'd borrowed, Grissom was tired and rather sore. He stretched his shoulders and legs while Sara put her running shoes back on. He'd had a great time, didn't regret a single second of it, but he wasn't as young as he'd like to be and he wished his body hadn't chosen that moment to remind him.

Standing up, Sara wrapped her arms around him for a long hug. "Thank you for a wonderful time," she said, pulling back. "I think this is the best outdoor experience I've ever had."

"Better than Red Rock Canyon?" He crouched down to remove the backpack out of its protective cover, then standing with a wince slung the bag over his shoulder and after thanking their guide one last time they began trudging their way up the beach back to the road.

"Better than Red Rock Canyon," she replied assuredly.

"How so?" he asked, surprised.

"It's just…I'm in a much better place in my life," she finally replied, taking his hand in hers. "I'm more content. More fulfilled. More confident with my life and where it's going." She looked over to him and shrugged. "I don't have to worry about—" Her words trailed off.

He scoffed. "Me? You mean me, don't you?"

Her shoulder lifted again, but a smile tugged at her lips and he knew the answer to be yes. "Now, I'm happy," she said. "What we have, what we share makes me happy. The happiest I've ever been in my life." She gave him an uncertain smile. "There was no what ifs today, there was no hoping for things that might never happen and chastising myself for it. It's just all… _happening_."

His smile faded. He knew her words weren't meant to be a dig at him, that she was just being honest and talking from the heart, but thinking of the years they'd wasted – _he'd_ wasted – by not acting on his feelings for her sooner made him feel sad. She'd had a place in his heart ever since he'd met her, but for far too long he'd denied himself that love even when – especially when – he knew it was reciprocated.

"Only Hank was missing today," she said, drawing him out of his thoughts.

He gave her hand a squeeze. "Next time I'll find us a different type of accommodation and we'll bring him."

Her smile grew. "He can sit in the canoe!"

Smiling, he stopped walking and she followed suit hesitantly before turning toward him. He met her gaze and lifted his hands to her face, cupping it gently as his lips met hers for a soft kiss.

"Thank you for being patient," he said, catching his hat before it fell as he pulled back, "and waiting for me."

A playful smile formed, lighting her eyes. "It was worth it."

Little did they know that their idyllic vacation was about to take a turn for the worse.


	5. Chapter 5

"Dibs on the shower," Sara called, munching on her third chocolate chip cookie as they got back to the B&B.

Grissom gave her a long sideways look. "I've a strong sense of déjà-vu," he said, laughing as he chewed. "Except this time, I believe one is wearing one's underpants." He pulled at the back of her shorts. "Indeed, they are."

Laughing, Sara batted his hand away. "You could always wash my back," she said, with a deliberate waggle of her brow.

His smile widened pleasurably. "Now there's an offer I can't refuse."

A young man they hadn't come across before sat at the desk behind the counter. Engrossed in the moving images on his cell phone, he barely looked up when Sara asked for the room key.

"There you are," he said, uninterestedly handing the key over.

Grissom rolled his eyes, and taking the key Sara smiled. "Leave him alone," she whispered as they headed toward the stairs. "Not everyone can be as solicitous as Mrs Garcia."

"At a price, of course," Grissom intoned, raising the packet of cookies he was holding to make his point.

Sara's smile widened. "How much did she charge you?"

"Probably more than I should have paid." He pulled the plastic tray holding the cookies out of the packaging. There were two left. He offered one to Sara while he took the other.

"It was worth every penny," she said, taking a bite.

Stopping at their room door, they shared a loaded smile that encompassed a lot more than just the cookies. "It was, wasn't it?

Sara let them in. Grissom disposed of the trash, then retrieved the bottle of water they'd bought as they walked back to the B&B from Fisherman's Cove from the backpack. He took a long swig before passing the bottle to Sara, who immediately rinsed the last of the cookie down. The ice cold water was just what she needed, both quenching and energising, and she took another longer drink of it.

While Grissom used the bathroom, she took off her cap, her still slightly damp running shoes and finally the rest of her clothes, dumping everything in a pile on the floor next to her travel bag. Sadly, she wouldn't need them again. Her shoulder muscles ached a little from all the paddling, and she looked forward to standing under the warm spray of the shower. She heard the flush go, then Grissom came out, registering a look of surprise at seeing her naked already.

"God, you move fast," he said, already pulling his T-shirt off above his head. "I'd hoped you might give me a minute, you know, to catch my breath."

She smiled. "You don't have to join me if you don't want to."

"Oh, but I want to."

Her stomach felt a little tight suddenly, and as she walked to the bathroom she rubbed at it absently. She turned the shower on and checked her reflection in the mirror. Despite the sunscreen she'd applied that morning, she'd caught the sun again expect for the area around her eyes that she'd kept behind sunglasses and which was noticeably one shade lighter.

Laughing, she shook her head. Any chance of pretending she'd spent a quiet three days at home catching up on sleep went out of the window. Still, she could always say she'd taken a day trip to Lake Mead or Mount Charleston. Her hair was held in a ponytail, the few strands that had come loose sticking to her sweaty face, and she kept it that way for the shower. She stepped in under the warm spray and trying to keep her hair dry stood with her head bent forward so the water hit her neck and shoulders.

She tried to stretch the muscles a little, did a few shoulder and neck exercises, then reached back to rub the area in question, but what she needed was a second pair of hands. Smiling to herself, she wondered whether while trying to catch his breath Grissom had dozed off. It wouldn't be the first time. She was rinsing herself when the shower door opened and Grissom finally joined her.

"You took your time," she said, turning toward him. "I'm all done."

He gave her a wide smile. "I'm not." He motioned for her to turn around again and, angling her head away from the water, she did as bid. "Are your shoulders as tight as mine?" he then asked, his hands already kneading her neck and shoulders, further easing the tension and soreness there.

"They were," she said, "But not anymore." Closing her eyes, she let out a long breath. "You're so good at this."

"Am I?"

Grissom continued to work his magic, until it was his turn and they swapped places so he stood under the spray with his back to her. She reached past him for the shower gel, squirted a large dollop in her hand and after setting the bottle down again began washing and massaging his shoulders and back. Almost immediately, she felt his muscles relax. His head lolled forward, his hand coming up as he stretched and rubbed the tension there.

"Are you very sore?" she asked.

When Grissom turned around on the spot, offering her his front to wash, he was smiling. "You're making it better."

The water began to cool down, and Grissom turned the shower off. Sara got out first, grabbing two towels and passing one to him, and they got dry in companionable silence. Sara undid her ponytail and shook out her hair before brushing it. Another day and their shower might have been more amorous, might have led to a more ardent finish, but right then both seemed a little tired and sluggish, the day's physical activity finally taking its toll on them.

In the room, she took out form her case a clean pair of panties, the previous day's bra and put them on. Frowning, she checked the case's inner pocket and found a small bottle of Tylenol. Quickly, she twisted the lid off and shook out a couple of pills before reaching for the water from the table and putting one pill in her mouth.

"You okay?" he asked, coming out of the bathroom.

Smiling, she nodded her head and washed the pill down with a little water before doing the same with the second pill. "Just a bit of stomach-ache."

Grissom pursed his lips, then his expression serious touched the back of his hand to her forehead as if feeling for a fever. "Too many cookies," he said conclusively, a wide smile forming as he lowered his hand.

She laughed. "You're probably right."

Grissom retrieved a new pair of pants. "Why don't we lie down for a while," he said, slipping them on. "We have time before we got to head out again."

Her brow arched. "A lie-down, huh? Is that a euphemism for… _afternoon delight_?"

He laughed. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but my intentions are strictly honourable. To tell you the truth, today's activity has done me in. I know I look it, but I'm not as young as I used to be."

Sara scoffed and shook her head in disbelief.

He raised his hands, palm up. "When I say lie down, I mean just that."

"A rest would be nice," she said, feeling her hand to her tummy.

Grissom's eyes were soft, sympathetic. "Do you want me to go and get you something stronger than Tylenol?"

"No, it's okay. Tylenol normally does the trick."

Grissom closed the curtains, then getting on the bed patted the space next to him and she climbed on, slowly lying down. She turned onto her side and Grissom did the same. He smiled at her tenderly, then reached a hand and gently brushed hair from her eyes.

Her expression softened lovingly. "I still can't believe how close those dolphins came!" she said, giggling quietly.

"At one point, I worried they might cause us to capsize."

Her smile widened. "That way we would have both got wet."

He laughed. " _That_ was funny."

She narrowed her gaze at him, and he sobered up.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to see any whales," he went on.

"That's okay." A slow smile grew, spreading across her face. "We'll just have to come again."

He gave a nod. "Maybe a _boat_ tour next time." Faking a wince, he rubbed at his bare shoulder and she laughed.

"There?" she asked, lifting her hand to feel the spot he'd just touched.

His expression darkened. "Yes, just there."

Her eyes holding his steadily, she raised herself up and pressed her lips to his shoulder. When she pulled back, he was smiling mischievously.

"And here," he said, indicating his neck.

Her smile broadening, Sara dutifully kissed the side of his neck, just below his jaw line, the growing stubble there tickly against the suntanned, wind-beaten skin around her mouth.

"And here," he then whispered, touching his lips.

Sara moved on top of him and as she leaned down to kiss his lips, he cupped his hands to her face while shifting onto his back. The position she was in exacerbated the tightness in her stomach, and she pulled back with a slight wince.

"Sorry," she said, dropping back down beside him.

"Still bad?"

"Not bad, just uncomfortable."

He gave a smile, nodded his head and then opened his arm out and she snuggled into his side. She closed her eyes, immediately feeling better.

"I was thinking," he said after a while in silence. "If we leave at about 2am we should get to Vegas by six."

Keeping her eyes closed, Sara mumbled her agreement.

"I don't mind driving first," he went on cheerily. "We can pick Hank up and take him for a walk, and then have breakfast and go to bed."

"Sounds good," she muttered back sleepily.

"I'm going to need to…go to the lab early if it's okay with you. And try to catch up on the mountain of paperwork I know is waiting for me."

All this talk of heading back made her feel melancholy. She must have fallen asleep at this point, because when she next woke Grissom's side of the bed was empty.

"Gil?" she called.

"In the bathroom."

Slowly, she moved into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Grissom had straightened up the room and packed both travel bags. He'd obviously emptied the closet too, for the dress she'd worn the previous evening was now draped over the back of the chair. With a sigh, she reached for her purse, checking the time on her phone. 6.30pm already.

"Sorry," she said, pushing to her feet a little dazedly. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Don't worry about it," he said, coming back into the room. Dressed in his jeans and a polo shirt, he had a smile on his face. "You hungry? Ready to head out to dinner? I'm starving."

Giving a nod, she walked past him. "I'll just…go and splash a little water on my face."

She smiled on noticing that Grissom had tidied the bathroom too. On autopilot, she took care of business, then washed her hands and face. She still felt a little drowsy from her sleep, almost cranky. The reflection in the mirror showed a dishevelled, slightly pallid face and, reaching for a towel, she turned away from it. Her skin felt tight, so she put on moisturising cream, and then combed her hair. Grissom was waiting when she returned, and quickly she slipped on yesterday's dress and sandals on.

"Come on, Sara," she admonished, as they left the B&B. "Snap out of it."

Grissom held out his hand to her, and mustering a smile she took it. She felt better already for being out in the fresh air. They had a few hours left before they'd be heading back and she intended to make the most of them. They walked a hundred yards or so to _Orange Inn_ , a small restaurant they'd spotted earlier that day. Not feeling very hungry, Sara ordered the fresh garden salad while Grissom chose the chicken burger.

"I'm going to need a lot of protein if I want to repair all the muscle tissue damage I did today," he told Sara, when the server had taken their order.

"There's plenty of protein in tofu," she retorted with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, but it doesn't taste half as good."

Sara laughed. Grissom reached over and took her hand. Their lemonades arrived, and they pulled back from each other. When the server had gone, Grissom picked up his glass and raised it in the air. When Sara made no move to pick up hers he cleared his throat and nodded at the glass. Frowning, Sara picked up her glass.

"I'd like to make a toast," he said. "To a successful first vacation together, and to many more like it in the future."

Sara's lips spread in a wide smile. "I'll drink to that," she said, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a small sip. "Although we won't know _how_ successful it's been until we get back to the lab."

Grissom acknowledged the point with a nod.

The food promptly arrived. The sight and smell of Grissom's burger and fries, instead of making her hungry, made her feel nauseous. A wide smile on his face as he rubbed his hands gleefully, he picked up his burger and took a big, hearty bite before shoving a couple of fries in his mouth for good measure. Sara, on the other hand, was more sedate. Leaving the salad dressing untouched in the miniature pitcher at the side of her plate, she picked up her fork and stabbed at a tomato, dispassionately putting it into her mouth. She ate a couple of mouthfuls, but the more she ate the queasier she seemed to feel.

"Is something wrong with your salad?" he asked, his mouth full.

She shook her head, gave a small smile. "I'm just not…hungry."

His gaze soft and considerate, he finished chewing. "Your stomach's still hurting?"

"A little," she said, trying to put on a brave face even though the tightness in her stomach was getting worse, almost cramp-like. She tried a smile, waved her fork at his food. "But don't let me spoil your fun. You keep eating."

"You do look a little…pale," he said, concerned.

Her lips twisted in a wry smile. "Thanks."

His expression softened. "Time of the month?" his eyes asked.

She gave her head a shake. "Not for another week. This is a different type of pain anyway."

Nodding, Grissom picked up his fork again and she watched as quickly he finished eating his fries. Then he looked up and pointed his fork at her plate in a silent question.

"Be my guest," she said, forcing a smile and he swapped his plate for hers. "I'm sorry," she then said, as he ate, "This is not how I envisaged our vacation to end."

He waved her concern aside. "Don't worry about it. I just hope it's nothing serious, that's all."

She wasn't getting her period, she was sure of that. Indigestion was out too, as aside from the cookies she hadn't eaten anything since lunch. Same for constipation. Gas? What else would cause cramps, she wondered. She could have picked up a stomach bug, of course.

The server returned to remove their empty plates and after declining dessert Grissom asked for the bill.

"Come on, let's go," he said, immediately after he'd paid. "Let's get out of here. Maybe a walk in the fresh air will help."

The pain was so bad now; it felt like her insides were churning. "You mind if we head straight back?"

The urgency in her tone took him aback. "Sure."

They got to the room in the nick of time, Sara making straight for the bathroom as soon as Grissom had let them in.

"Sara?"

She just had time to lift the toilet lid before the first of the vomiting came. When she thought she had no more to bring up, she flushed, then slowly pushed to her feet. Weak and dizzy, she held on to the basin, turned on the faucet and rinsed her mouth.

There was a soft knock on the door before it opened and Grissom popped his head in. "What can I do?" he asked, concerned, helpless.

She retched. Bringing a closed fist to her mouth, she took a couple of deep breaths through her nose to try to keep the food down but to no avail. Quickly turning away and bending over the toilet, she was sick again.

Grissom shifted behind her, pulling her hair back, placing a gentle hand on her back and keeping it there comfortingly.

Faint and breathless, she dropped down to her knees. When she was finished, he helped her to her feet. She rinsed her mouth again, and handing her a towel he flushed the toilet. Her stomach made a strange gurgling sound, the pain all of a sudden sharp and intense.

"More?" he asked.

She nodded her head, but this time she pulled her panties down and hurriedly sat down on the toilet.

Grissom hesitated briefly, before he moved to the door. "I'll just be outside," he said, closing the door after him.

Sara closed her eyes, and let nature take its course. Sometime during the twenty minutes she spent on the toilet she began to feel hot and took her dress off. When nothing had happened for a few minutes and she thought she was finished, she cleaned herself up and then flushed the toilet. She was washing her hands when Grissom popped his head in.

"What time is it?" she asked, weakly.

"A little before ten."

"Shit." She must have been in the bathroom longer than she thought.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay." Tears of frustration and anger, of exhaustion filled her eyes. "What about work tomorrow?"

He put the lid down on the toilet. "We don't have to travel back tonight. We can stay here until the morning. Hopefully you'll feel better by then. We'll travel back tomorrow; it's no big deal."

"No big deal?" she repeated impatiently, sitting down on the closed toilet. Her head was spinning. "And then what? Head straight into work?"

"Well, I wouldn't expect _you_ to, no," he said. "Not as sick as you are. It sounds like you got a bad case of—"

"—food poisoning, I know," she snapped.

He let out a breath. "I feel fine," he then said, unhelpfully. "What did you eat that I didn't?"

"I don't know!"

He sighed. "Do you think it's what we ate for lunch?"

"You ate it too."

"Maybe it's the mussels you had last night," he tried. "Or a bug?"

"Well, whatever the hell it is, it's the pits. I feel terrible, worse than that. I feel like I'm about to die."

The ghost of a smile formed, tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come on," he said, ever patiently, "Let's get you into bed."

With a sigh, Sara nodded her head. He took her elbow and helped her up and out of the bathroom.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked, dropping down onto the edge of the bed.

The smile tugging even wider at his lips, Grissom helped her to lie down. "I'm not smiling."

"It's not funny," she half-laughed, half-cried.

"It's a little bit funny," he insisted playfully.

"Gil," she whimpered, a small smile forming despite herself.

"I like it when you're grumpy. You're cute."

"Cute? Cute? I'm dying here."

He sat down at the edge of the bed, ran soft eyes over her face and then stroked his hand to her cheek. She thought he was leaning down to kiss her lips, but his mouth landed on her forehead instead. She couldn't blame him. "I don't think I've ever seen you sick before," he said, pulling back. "You're always so strong, so—"

A knock on the door stopped Grissom dead in his tracks.

"Laguna Beach PD. Open up, please. We know you're in there."


	6. Chapter 6

"Laguna Beach PD. Open up, please. We know you're in there."

Grissom turned a dumbfounded look toward the door. "The police?" he said in a whisper.

"That's all we need," Sara muttered weakly.

"Maybe you're the victim of a serial food poisoner," he said, the ghost of a smile forming, and then in the voice of a very quiet TV newscaster, "And soon they were dead. Victims of a mysterious food poisoner."

Sara gave him a dark look. "Ah, ah. Very funny, but I don't see you on your deathbed."

Grissom's expression softened lovingly, indulgently. "Don't talk it up, please. We're going to need one of us fully functioning if we're going to make it back home."

They heard hushed voices speaking outside now, before there was another louder knock on the door. "It's the police," the male voice said. "Open up, please."

"Maybe it's just about a broken taillight," Grissom tried. "You know that by law we are not required to answer that, right?"

"I know, but you will, because we have nothing to hide."

Grissom pursed his mouth.

"Maybe they know who we are and need our help to solve a crime."

"Then the cat will truly be out of the bag." With a sigh, Grissom pushed to his feet, and then addressing the police officer at the door, "Just a minute. I'm coming."

"Help me up first, will you?" Sara said, weakly swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Help you up?" He stared at her, in just her bra and panties, with bewilderment. "You're not opening the door."

"You're right, Sherlock, I'm not. _You_ are." She indicated the bathroom. "Have you seen the state of me? I'm going to go hide in there."

Still slightly astounded by the turn of events, he helped Sara to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

There was a third, more impatient knock.

"I'm coming," Grissom replied impatiently. He was about to open the door when he sniffed the air around. Hurriedly, he went to open the window to let in a little fresh air. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure the room wasn't too untidy, Grissom finally opened the door.

"Sorry," he said to the two officers standing there, keeping his voice down. "I was in the bathroom." And then a frown forming, "What can I do for you?"

"Mr Grissom?"

"That's right."

"I'm Officer Vandersall," the male officer told Grissom as he showed him his badge, and then nodding toward his female colleague standing a little back from him, "And that's Officer Flores."

Grissom nodded at both in turn. "What's this all about?"

"We have reasons to believe that a crime has been committed."

"A crime?" Grissom exclaimed with surprise. "Here at the B&B?"

The officers exchanged a long, meaningful look, but failed to reply. Officer Vandersall looked past Grissom into the room, and Grissom couldn't help look over his shoulder and follow the officer's eye line. His eyes alighted on the unmade bed and the packed luggage near the door. The smell of vomit was still bad, permeating. He glanced toward the bathroom. All was quiet there, and he hoped Sara was all right.

"I don't understand," he then said, turning back to the officer.

"Are you alone?" Officer Flores asked.

Grissom refocused on her. "No, Sara's in the bathroom."

"I see your bags are packed," Officer Vandersall said. "Were you about to leave?"

"Well, yes—no." Grissom gave his head a shake. "We _were_ going to leave tonight, but we've decided to stay until the morning."

Again, the officers shared a look.

Grissom's frown deepened. "What's all this about?" he asked again, growing uncomfortable at the scrutiny.

"Do you mind if we come in and take a look around?" Vandersall asked.

"Why?" he asked, surprised. "I can guarantee no crime has been committed here. And we're not hiding anyone either, if that's what you're thinking."

There was a retching noise in the bathroom, and Grissom turned toward it with a wince.

"Sir?" Officer Flores said, stepping forward. "Can you please step back from the door so we can take a look? If as you say, no crime has been committed, we'll know soon enough."

Grissom registered a moment's pause, his original surprise quickly making way to suspicion. Idly, he wondered if a team of CSIs were waiting in the shadows, ready to come in too and process the room. What if someone back at the lab had sniffed a rat, and put together an elaborate plan to expose his and Sara's relationship? He gave his head a shake, dismissing the possibility out of hand.

His instinct told him he shouldn't let the officers in though, not without a warrant, that he might be incriminating himself otherwise, but as apart from his relationship with Sara he had nothing to hide he grudgingly stepped back.

"I expect that if you had a warrant you'd have come in already, right?"

"That's right, Sir," Officer Flores said. "You're letting us in voluntarily."

Under Grissom's watchful eye, the officers had a cursory look around the room, but didn't otherwise touch or open anything.

"What's the smell?" Vandersall asked.

"That's the smell of sick, Officer." Grissom's voice dripped with sarcasm. Officer Vandersall gave him a look, and he sighed. "What is it you're looking for exactly?" he asked, growing impatient now. "Maybe if you told me, I could help you."

"What about the bathroom?" Flores said. "Can we look in there?"

"No, you can't," Grissom replied firmly. "Sara's in there. She's…indisposed."

Once again, the officers exchanged looks. "Sara?" Vandersall prompted.

"My—" Trying to come up with the right moniker, Grissom wavered. "My girlfriend."

"She's been in there a long time."

Grissom's brow arched. "As I said, she's unwell. She's being sick actually. Hence the smell."

"Sick?" Officer Flores repeated, her brow arching too, and Grissom knew she thought he was lying. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," he exclaimed edgily. He moved toward the door, hoping the officers would take the hint. "Now if that's everything?"

Vandersall hooked a thumb toward the bathroom. "We'll just wait until—until…she's finished."

Grissom scoffed. "I don't think so. You checked for yourself. The room's clean. Of what I'm still not sure."

The officer's expression darkened. "Would you mind coming downstairs with me and opening the trunk of your car?"

Grissom registered a look of shock. "My trunk?"

"Your trunk, yes, Sir. I'd like to see what you stowed in the trash bags Mrs Garcia gave you."

Grissom gave his head a shake to try to clear the fog. Maybe it was just a bad dream, and he would wake up soon enough. "There's nothing in the trunk of my car," he replied. "But for the sake of clarity and because we have nothing to hide, we used the bags when we went canoeing earlier today."

Again the officers shared a look. "Then you won't mind opening the trunk of your car for me," Vandersall said, "While Officer Flores waits for… _Sara_. We'd like a word with her too."

"Sure I mind!" Grissom took a breath he let out slowly. "Listen," he went on, raising his hands conciliatorily, "I know the law. You can't search my car without probable cause or a warrant. And you've got neither. You're lucky I let you in in the first place. And I'm starting to regret that decision." Again, he motioned at the open door. "So if you wouldn't mind?"

"You know the law, do you?" Flores said. "You got form?"

Grissom couldn't help the loud scoff that came out of his mouth. "Officer, you're barking up the wrong tree here."

"Where are the bags now?" Officer Vandersall asked again. "Still in your possession?"

"They are."

"Can you show them to us, please? We just want to see what's inside them. If you have nothing to hide as you maintain then it shouldn't be an issue."

He dug his heels in; it was a matter of principle. "Not without a warrant, no."

The flush went in the bathroom and all three faces turned toward the sound.

"Sir, you and your girlfriend are going to need to come down to PD with us."

Grissom whipped his head back to Vandersall. "I don't think so," he stated firmly. "I told you Sara's not well. And certainly not until you explain to me what all this is about. Did you even run a check on my name before you turned up?"

It was clear by the look the officers shared that they hadn't. "We assumed you'd used an alias as a lot of people in your situation tend to do."

"People in my situation? I don't know what you've heard but—" He took in a very long breath, tried an appeasing smile. "We got off on the wrong foot," he went on, "which maybe is partly my fault. Let's start again. Let me get some ID." He moved to his travel bag, and both officers slid their hand to the holstered gun on their hip. "My name is Gil Grissom. I work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Why don't you call dispatch and have them check?" He retrieved his wallet, took out his driver's licence, wished he'd brought his Crime Lab ID too. "Here, see for yourself. Gilbert Grissom."

Grissom watched powerlessly as Officer Flores walked over to the bathroom door and knocked on it. "Ma'am?" she said, addressing Sara. "You're taking rather a long time. Can you come on out now, please?"

Meanwhile, the officer checked Grissom's driver's licence. "Okay, so you are who you say you are," he said, and Grissom took the proffered ID back, "Come with us to the station and you can explain about the trash bags and the body in the water."

"The body in the water?" Grissom repeated with disbelief, bewilderment. He raised his hands in front of him. "Wow, I don't know what you think you know but you're way off the mark here."

"Did you go canoeing down the State Marine Reserve and Conservation area today?"

"Sure we did. I told you that. What kind of body are you talking about anyway?"

Neither officer replied.

"Do you even know?" Grissom berated. "Do you even have evidence that a crime has been committed?"

"What's your partner's full name?" Officer Flores asked. "Mrs Garcia has you booked under Mr and Mrs Grissom."

 _Mrs Garcia?_ Was that who had called the police on them? And for what crime? Because they weren't married and he'd booked them in under false pretences?

The flush went again next door, and once again everyone turned toward the bathroom. Sara came out, looking like death warmed over. Pale and with dark circles around her eyes, she had slipped the dress she'd been wearing earlier back on and run a comb through her hair. She padded barefoot to the bed and sat down heavily on it.

Worried, Grissom immediately sat down next to her. "You okay?"

Turning toward him, she nodded her head softly. "Sara Sidle," she then said weakly, answering the Officer's question, her voice hoarse because of the vomiting, and Grissom realised she'd been listening all this time. "That's my name. I work for the Las Vegas Crime Lab too. We're both CSIs, we work for the nightshift, hence why we'd originally planned to drive back overnight." She turned to Grissom. "Mrs Garcia must have gotten the wrong end of the stick this morning when we were talking at breakfast. She was eavesdropping on us, didn't you notice?"

Grissom opened his mouth before he gave a shrug, and Sara turned back to the officers. "My ID is my purse. Run your checks please." She rubbed at her stomach. "I'm not feeling well."

Officer Vandersall nodded at Sara, then reached for his radio. He was about to start talking when Grissom raised his hand. "Wait, wait." He looked over at Sara, then sighed and closed his eyes. "If you run your check," he told the officers, "then Sara and I are rumbled. I have a better idea."

He grabbed his cell from the bedside table, scrolled down to Brass's name and after a moment's hesitation connected the call. "Jim," he said, as soon as Brass picked up, "It's Grissom here."

He looked at the officers, then at Sara. He was sure that at some point they'd look back on this situation and laugh but right then he didn't see the funny side. Still, if he had to choose someone to find out about his relationship with Sara then he'd rather it were Brass than anyone else. An expensive bottle of single malt was a small price to pay for Brass's silence.

"Listen," he went on self-consciously, "I'm in a bit of a jam and I need you to explain to two officers here that I am who I say I am."

Brass laughed. "In a jam, you say?"

Grissom rolled his eyes.

"So where are you at?" Brass went on. "Who am I dealing with here?"

Grissom looked over at Sara and raised a shoulder. "Laguna Beach PD."

"Laguna Beach, huh? In California?"

Grissom was developing a headache and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's right."

"But I thought you said you were away at a conference in Texas." He could hear the confusion in Brass's voice.

"Yeah, well, you thought wrong."

"Oh, okay. My bad. So what? You got caught speeding and you want me to put in a good word, say that you won't do it again, is that it?"

Grissom took in a breath he let out slowly. "Speak to the officer, Jim, please. Just answer his questions and I'll explain when I get back."

"Okay. Put him on," Brass said, laughing.

With a sigh, Grissom held out his cell. Officers Vandersall and Flores looked at each other before Vandersall reached for the device. The officer looked at the cell, then put the call on speakerphone so his colleague could hear.

"Officer Vandersall here, from the Laguna Beach PD. Who am I speaking with?"

"Captain Brass. Captain Jim Brass of the LVPD. What's Grissom done now?"

Sara smiled, and Grissom shook his head exasperatedly.

"Well, nothing as yet, Sir. Myself and Officer Flores, well, we're following up a line of enquiry that's led us to Mr Grissom. He's being quite…pugnacious."

"Pugnacious, huh?"

"Uncooperative, Sir."

Grissom scoffed.

"In what matter?" Brass asked.

"That's not relevant, Sir. At present, we're just trying to confirm Mr Grissom's identity, and that of his partner."

"His partner?" There was a pause. "Wouldn't it have been easier to run the check through the computer?"

"Well, yes, Sir, but Mr Grissom insisted."

"He did, did he?" There was another pause, and Grissom could well imagine another piece of the jigsaw had fallen into place for the captain. "Well, Dr Gilbert Grissom is the nightshift supervisor of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. In fact, he's got my old job."

"So you vouch for him?"

"I vouch for him. Who's he with?"

"One Sara Sidle?" The officer began to spell out Sara's surname but Brass cut him off.

"I know Sara. They work together. Hell, he's her boss." Brass laughed. "And they're together? Right now? Well, I'll be damned. Gil? Gil, you're listening? You hear me?"

Grissom closed his eyes. "Yeah, I hear you."

"You too, Sara?"

"Hi Jim."

Brass laughed. "You don't sound too good."

"I'm sick. Food poisoning, I think."

Brass's laughter redoubled. "Not the perfect getaway after all, huh?"

"Thanks, Jim," Grissom said, "That'll be all." He paused, winced, "Oh, and not a word to anyone please."

"My lips are sealed."

"I mean it, Jim."

There was a beat. "You do, don't you?"

Grissom looked over at Sara and smiled at her as he spoke. "Yeah, I do."

Brass laughed. "Your secret's safe with me. I'll see you when you get back. _Both_ of you."

Sara laughed quietly. "Sounds like we're in for it when we get back."

Officer Vandersall thanked Brass and the two exchanged a few pleasantries before the officer ended the call and handed the cell back to Grissom.

"We're very sorry, Sir," he said, "but you got to realise we got to check these things out. Poaching is a real concern to us."

Grissom did a double take. "Poaching?"

"Fish and wildlife mainly," Officer Flores said. "But sea lions too."

"That's terrible," Sara said in a gasp of disbelief.

"Did Mrs Garcia really think that's what we were doing?" he asked, bewildered.

"Yes, sir. See it from her point of view: a daylong canoe trip, trash bags, talk of immersed bodies and leaving in the middle of the night and—"

"She got the wrong end of the stick."

"She did. We'll go talk to her now, explain."

"Thank you."

"Could you ask her to bring more toilet paper?" Sara asked, lying down on the bed and closing her eyes. "I've used it all up."

The officers shared a smile. "Sure will, Ma'am," Vandersall said. "Hope you get better soon." Turning to Grissom, "Drive back safely."

The officers left and Grissom closed the door after them.

"Why didn't you just…show them the trash bags?" Sara asked, weakly opening her eyes.

"It was a matter of principle." Grissom gave her a sheepish look. "Besides, I put all our beach stuff and dirty washing in them. Underwear and all."

Sara laughed, but her amusement soon morphed into a look of pain.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, gently stroking his hand to her face.

"Tired, but a little better actually. I am truly empty both ends." Her eyes widening, she paused. "Do you think she did it on purpose? Mrs Garcia, do you think she tried to poison us on purpose?"

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe she wanted to incapacitate us, you know, to make sure we wouldn't get away before the police came."

"Because she thought we were poachers?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know," Grissom said. " _I'm_ feeling fine."

Sara made a musing sound. Then she closed her eyes and let out a long breath and, thinking that she was dozing off, Grissom walked around the bed before lying down alongside her with a frown on his face.

A seed of doubt had been sown in his mind.

Was he about to get sick as well?


	7. Chapter 7

Sara stirred and shifted on the seat, tried to prise open her heavy eyelids. She felt weak and drowsy, headachy too, and sore from the awkward position she was half-sitting, half-lying in. Hair was in her face, covering her eyes, and she tried lifting her hand to push it away, but the weight of the blanket draped over her seemed too much. She was in the car, that much she knew, clearly remembered Grissom moving the seat right back and a little down for her before helping her in.

They'd left the B&B and Laguna Beach like two thieves in the night, simply leaving their room key behind on the front desk and letting themselves out through the self-locking doors. Unsurprisingly, Mrs Garcia didn't make an appearance. Thinking back to the police turning up on their doorstep, suspecting them of poaching, instead of riling her made her smile in her slumber. And now Brass knew about them. She was sure that at some point Grissom would see the funny side too.

She stirred some more, turning and trying to sit up, her eyes cooperating this time when she blinked them open. The cabin was pitch dark, except for the dim dashboard lights, the moonlight doing little else than casting darker shadows over the already dark landscape. The monotonous drone of the Mercedes engine told her Grissom was doing a steady fifty miles an hour, that they were on the highway somewhere. Music played softly in the background, almost inaudibly.

"Go back to sleep," he instructed tenderly, his hand stroking her upper leg. "There's a long way to go still."

The next time she awoke, she felt better, more alert somehow. They were still on the road, but the sun was up and shining low straight into her eyes through the windshield. She turned her face away and with a sigh reached her right hand back, feeling for the dial that would put the seat in an upright position. She tried stretching her legs and back, brought her hand up to massage her sore neck. The blanket fell to her lap.

Her mouth was dry, sticky and she swallowed. "What time is it?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes. She sounded rough, croaky, as though she'd spent the night partying rather than sleeping.

Grissom flicked his gaze over to her. "A little after six."

"Shit." She scrunched her eyes shut against the bright light, then rummaged inside her purse at her feet for her sunglasses and put them on. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to be out for this long."

"Don't worry about it." He turned back to her. "How are you feeling?"

She cleared her throat. "Okay, I guess. Better. You?"

"I'm still good," he said, refocusing on the road, but the tired look on his face betrayed his words. "There's some water by your feet somewhere. You should drink a little, keep hydrated."

Giving a nod, Sara pushed the blanket aside, then reached down by her feet, finally locating the bottle underneath her purse. Her stomach felt different now, still queasy, but because it was empty rather than full and churning. It was almost as if she felt hungry, and yet the mere thought of food made her gag. She didn't think she could ever eat again. She broke the seal on the cap, then took a careful sip of water, grateful for the immediate relief it provided, and then another and another longer one.

"Not too much at once," Grissom intoned softly, once again taking his eyes off the road, "Or it'll dilute the concentration of sodium in your blood."

Even in her state, Sara couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips. "Yes, Doctor," she replied, lowering the bottle, and then as an afterthought, "You thirsty? You want some?"

Grissom winced. "I've got my own bottle." A sheepish look on his face, he glanced at her. "I bought some snacks too," he went on brightly, but the mention of snacks wiped the smile off her face. "Or maybe not. I'd rather you weren't sick in the car." He winced again, then turned his attention back to the road. "Please."

"So you're not feeling sick at all?" she asked. "Not even a little nauseous?"

"Nope," he replied, sounding rather smug about it, and Sara sighed. So maybe Mrs Garcia hadn't tried to poison them after all.

She looked out of the window at the landscape so she could get her bearings. They were driving past the Mojave National Preserve on the I-15, about an hour away from home. "You must be beat," she said. "We're not far. I can drive the rest of the way."

"It's okay. I'm fine," he replied, smiling at her. "I had a little shuteye when we stopped for gas earlier."

"Wow," she said, her gaze becoming distant. "I never realised. I must have conked right out."

"You were pretty out of it," he said, giving her another tender smile. "All that sleep's done you good though. You're looking much better."

Scoffing, Sara felt her hand to her face. Her skin was dry and tight; she felt grubby and she was sure she smelt too. But he was being kind and loving, and she felt heartened by his words.

"You mind if we go to yours?" he asked. "That way you'll have your car when I leave for work. Should you need it."

"Sure. Whatever."

They picked up a boisterous Hank, made a little fuss of him and drove home. While Hank reacquainted himself with her car lot, Grissom grabbed the bags, locked the car and she let them into the building. They waited for the elevator, got upstairs and inside her apartment. Hank made straight for his water bowl, and while Grissom filled it for him she headed to the bedroom. The walk up seemed to have sapped whatever strength she had regained, and she sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He came into the room, dropped their travel bags at the end of the bed and handed her the bottle of water.

"You should drink some more," he said, smiling at her encouragingly, "Then get into bed. I'm going to take Hank around the block and I'll join you. He'll have to wait until this afternoon for a longer walk."

She nodded. "I'm going to grab a shower and then make you some breakfast. You must be hungry."

"I'm fine. I just want to crash out." He stooped to kiss her on the lips before he left, calling for Hank.

Sara drank a little water, then closed her eyes and wearily pushed to her feet. In the bathroom, she turned the shower on, got undressed and after tying her hair back slipped under the warm shower. She felt better afterwards, certainly cleaner, if not much revived. She wished the fog would lift in her head. She was getting into clean pyjamas when Hank and Grissom returned. Grissom showered, then joined her in bed. They snuggled up close and fell asleep at once.

When she woke again, Grissom's side of the bed was empty. The time on the bedside clock read 2pm. She got up, finding him in the kitchen. He was at the stove with his back to her, talking quietly to Hank. Even though she didn't feel hungry, the smell of food didn't make her gag anymore, which she thought a good sign. Hank stood up to meet her. She stroked his hand to his muzzle, then walked up to Grissom, draping her arms around his midriff from behind and leaning her head on his shoulder. Smiling, he turned his face toward her.

"You want a little?" he asked, nodding at the cheesy egg mixture cooking in the skillet.

"I'd rather not," she said with a shake of the head.

He folded the omelette, switched the heat off, then turned in her arms and they embraced. When they pulled apart, he reached into a cupboard for a glass, filled it with tap water and handed it to her. She took the glass with a knowing smile and brought it to her lips.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, putting bread in the toaster.

"Like I'm over the worst of it now."

"Still not hungry, though, huh?"

Smiling, she shook her head and sat down at the counter, setting the glass down in front of her.

"Give your stomach a rest today, but I reckon by tomorrow you'll feel hungry again."

He transferred the omelette onto a plate and waited for the bread to pop up to bring the food and a glass of orange juice to the table and sit down alongside her. Automatically she picked up the knife and spread jam onto his toast, while he hungrily cut into the omelette before bringing a large morsel to his mouth.

"I'm going to take Hank to the park and then head into work," he said chewing. "Are you going to be okay?"

She gave a nod. "I don't mind taking Hank," she said.

He seemed to ponder her words. "I tell you what. I don't have to rush off. Why don't we both go?"

A smile formed on Sara's face. "Deal."

They took a slow wander to Sara's local park and back, the sun and fresh air doing her good. When they got back, Grissom got ready for work and Sara settled herself with Lee Child and Hank on the couch.

"Remind me to bring more clothes over," he said, coming back into the lounge. "I'm running out."

Looking up, Sara nodded her head, made a mental note to do some laundry before shift.

"Don't tell me how it ends," he went on, nodding at the book in her hand, "If you finish the book before I do, that is."

"I won't."

Grissom bent down and they kissed. She liked how intimate it had become between them, how comfortable and comforting too. She loved that in the last year or so she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of nights – or rather days – they'd spent apart. His place or hers, it didn't matter anymore. They were interchangeable. She'd never had that in her life before. Such closeness and intimacy. Such love. Never. She'd never been as close to another human being as she was with him. He knew her deepest secrets, her deepest fears. And instead of feeling scared or vulnerable, overwhelmed by it, she felt strengthened.

"I'll see you in four hours," she said, smiling softly.

He registered a look of surprise. "Oh, no, you won't. You're taking the night off."

"I can't," she replied. "I've already had three nights off."

"This is not up for negotiation, Sara," he said, his tone firm.

"Food poisoning isn't contagious, Gil, and I'm feeling much better, much stronger than I did even this morning."

"What if it's not food poisoning, huh? What if you caught a bug? I don't want it spreading around the lab."

"If I'd caught a bug," she countered, "it would have already spread to you, the amount of close contact we've had."

A grudging smile formed, tugging at his lips. "Yeah, well, maybe not. I've the constitution of an ox."

"Gil—"

He sighed. "Sara, please, take the night off. Give your body a little time to recover."

"Okay, let's compromise," she said. "What if you don't send me out in the field and I do lab work. Paperwork even, that's it."

"Sara—"

"That way, I can work at my own pace. And if I don't feel well, I promise to stop and go home."

Grissom's lips pursed thoughtfully. "There's going to be a lot of paperwork to catch up on."

"I know."

"Catherine's got the night off. I guess you could use her office. Like quarantine."

"Exactly."

Beaten, he gave a lengthy sigh. "I can't stop you from turning up anyway, can I?"

Sara's reply was to smile brightly.

"And I guess, that way, I get to keep an eye on you." After a moment's hesitation, he gave his head a shake, then leaned forward again and kissed her lips. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"I won't."

"And drink plenty of water."

She watched as he said goodbye to Hank, before he opened the door and with a long, hesitant pause at the threshold went on his way. Smiling, she turned her attention to Reacher. She'd barely started chapter two than already she'd dozed off.

Sara was in the locker room at the start of shift, stowing her jacket and purse away, when Grissom walked in. "So I put a stack of files on Catherine's desk for you to work through," he said without preamble.

Turning toward him, she gave a nod.

He paused, looked toward the open door then at the assignment slip in his hand. His tone was softer, less business-like, when he next spoke. "You sure you're up to it?"

"I'm sure."

A tender smile on his lips, he ran loving eyes over her face. "Okay."

"Yo, Griss. Sara," Warrick said, ambling into the room.

"Hey," Sara replied, startling as she turned back to her locker, while Grissom answered a more composed, "Warrick."

Warrick opened his locker, and Sara and Grissom exchanged a quick, furtive look. She hoped they weren't being as transparent as she felt.

"How was Texas?" Warrick asked.

"Texas?" Grissom repeated with surprise.

"Your conference?" Sara piped up, her brow arched with interest.

"Oh, it was great. Better than great actually. Maybe the best conference I've ever attended."

Warrick pursed his face in consideration. "Managed to get yourself a tan. Can't have spent that much time indoors."

Grissom flicked his eyes to Sara. "I—I…there was a field trip component to the conference, so I did get to spent time outdoors."

Pretending to rummage in her purse, Sara pinched her lips to suppress her amusement.

"You, Sara?" Warrick went on.

"Me too," she replied distractedly.

"You too what?"

She refocused. "I had a great time too, thank you for asking."

Warrick frowned. He was going to talk again when Grissom said, "Sara was just telling me she fell ill during her time off. Spent most of it on the toilet?"

Warrick made a face while Sara narrowed her eyes at Grissom and he shrugged his shoulder innocently.

"Food poisoning, I think," she told Warrick. "A bad mussel probably," she added, and then looking at Grissom, "nothing contagious it would seem."

"You ate mussels?" Warrick exclaimed, his face lighting up with mischief. "You went on a date?"

Sara cursed inwardly. Grissom cocked a brow in interest. Looking amused, he was waiting to see how she'd get herself out of that one. Whistling to himself and much to her relief, Nick walked in.

"Sara here's got a man in her life we don't know about," Warrick told Nick before she could change tack, his tone mock-accusing. "He's taken her to some fancy restaurant and given her food poisoning."

"Oh, yeah?" Nick said, opening his locker, clearly happy to play along with the teasing. "Do you think that's the same man—"

"It is indeed," Brass said, standing in the doorway, "Yours truly here, who else?"

He looked over at Sara. His eyes were playful, cunning. He might give her and Grissom a little stick over the relationship behind closed doors, but she knew he would have their backs. He knew their secret, and it wasn't the end of the world.

"I told you to take the night off," Brass went on. "You look like death warmed over." And then in the same breath, turning toward Grissom, "Gil, I need a word."

Looking stunned, Grissom nodded at Brass. He glanced at Sara, then at the assignment slip in his hand. "You two are heading out," he said, addressing Nick and Warrick. "Trick roll at Super 8 in North Vegas." He gave the slip to Nick and followed Brass out.

Warrick and Nick exchanged looks of puzzlement before they shook their heads.

Greg came bounding in, looked at the people there and frowned. "What's going on? What did I miss?"

Taking her bottle of water, Sara winked at him, then closed her locker door. "I'll be in Catherine's office if you need me."

A few hours into shift, and Sara kept nodding off as she worked. She hated to admit that Grissom was right, but maybe it was time she called it a night. She was signing off on another case when there was a quiet knock on the glass door. Looking up, she smiled. Grissom came in, carrying a mug and a small plate, and carefully closed the door after him.

"How are you getting on?" he asked, his expression soft as he smiled at her.

Briefly, Sara wondered whether he'd seen her dozing through the plate glass.

"Slowly," she said in a sigh, patting the stack of files she'd reviewed.

Putting the mug and plate on the desk, he sat down at one of the visitors' chairs across from her. "No, I meant you."

Her expression softened. "I'm okay." She rubbed at the back of her neck and shrugged. "A little tired actually, this is all so tedious."

He chuckled. "Welcome to my world." He pushed the mug toward her. "It's weak tea, sweetened, and a couple of saltines. Easy on your stomach."

His solicitude touched her. "Thank you." She picked up the mug and tentatively brought it to her mouth, wet her lips and then took a small sip. She waited for an adverse reaction and, when none came, she took a larger gulp.

"Sorry about the guys earlier," he said, smiling sheepishly.

"It wasn't your fault."

"You think they suspect anything?"

Sara looked past his shoulder through the plate glass and open blinds to the lab beyond.

"They're still out," he said, "if that's what you're worried about."

She refocused tender eyes on him and smiled.

"So?"

"I think we're going to be okay."

He gave a thoughtful nod.

Smiling, she picked up a saltine and began nibbling at it. "What did Jim want earlier?"

Grissom chuckled. "He wanted to know all the details."

"What did you tell him?"

His smile turned wistful. "The truth." He stared at her at length, his expression as soft and loving as his gaze.

"He has our backs," she said.

His smile broadened. "I know." He paused, nodded his head. He was looking pensive now, and she frowned. "Jim and I were talking and…" He paused again, his shoulder lifting. "I was thinking…well, I think we should move in together."

Her frown deepened. "We already have."

"No. I mean, properly, you know? I—I think we should look for a place together, somewhere we would call our own, rather than mine, or yours."

Sara opened her mouth, only to shut it again. His words, totally out of the blue as far as she was concerned, left her stunned into silence.

"Anyway," he went on, as casually as if he'd asked whether she wanted Italian or Chinese for dinner, "just think about it. There's no pressure."

He gave her a soft, uncertain smile, and made to reach for her hand but, seemingly remembering where he was, pushed to his feet instead. "I'd better get back to _my_ stack of files."

Still shocked by his proposition, she gave him a nod and a soft smile. "Thanks for these," she said, motioning at the tea and crackers.

"You're welcome."

"Gil?" she called when he opened the door to leave.

He turned.

"Yes," she said, smiling brightly. "Yes. I think we should too."

His face lit up, and he gave her a nod before glancing over his shoulder hesitantly. "I'll see you at mine?"

She nodded. "I'll pick Hank up on the way."

"And I'll get breakfast."

She stared at the closed door long after he left. She knew he wouldn't have asked if it wasn't what he wanted and if he didn't think they could make it work. She wondered then what had made him ask. Was it because they'd had such a great vacation together? Because she'd been sick and he'd felt protective of her? Was it something Brass had said?

Whatever it was, it didn't matter.

He was ready to take the next step in their relationship, and so was she.

* * *

The End.


End file.
